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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26747632">Kinktober 2020</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissWolfinger/pseuds/MissWolfinger'>MissWolfinger</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Undertale (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Blindfolds, Breeding, Bukkake, Dildos, Dom/sub, Dubious Consent, Emetophilia, Gender Dysphoria, Kidnapping, Kinfe Play, Multi, Overstimulation, Rimming, Strip Poker, Tentacles, Unrealistic Sex, Way Play, menophilia, more tags to come</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 11:15:39</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>24,217</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26747632</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissWolfinger/pseuds/MissWolfinger</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>These are my Kinktober 2020 one shots based off of Snyland's prompt list found  <a href="https://twitter.com/snyyland/status/1253013210355118089"><span class="u">HERE</span></a></p><p>This year has been a suck sandwich and I think some extra kink is in order. These stories will be varying degrees of <s>horrifically un</s>polished, but it's all in good fun. So strap on and strap in for Kintober 2020.</p><p>Each chapter will have its own set of tags in the notes. </p><p>18+ readers only.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Blaze (Underfell)/Reader, Fuku Fire (Undertale)/Reader, Green (Echo!tale)/Reader, Papyrus (Fellswap)/Reader, Papyrus (Underswap)/Reader, Sans (Fresh!Sans)/Reader, Sans (Horrortale)/Reader, Sans (Underfell)/Reader, Sans (Undertale)/Reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>41</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>108</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Due to a packed October schedule, I may not bang out one fic a day. My friend and I are raising money as October is breast cancer awareness month and we'll be streaming nonsense most evenings. That being said all 31 days' worth of prompts will be seen to completion even if we're stomping boots in <s>November.</s>  EDIT: <s>In December.</s> In January.

</p><p>I'm also shamelessly adding the charity link here.  <a href="https://tiltify.com/@rollforseverity/lets-make-mel-bald">:D</a></p><p>To keep things tidy and help determine what content you may or may not want to read, each chapter will have its own tags identified in the notes. Please be a responsible adult, take charge of your journey, and stop reading if something is rubbing you the wrong way.</p><p>Day 1: Multiple Orgasms.<br/>
Themes: Over stimulation | Blindfolds | Sex Toys | Dom/Sub | M/F<br/>
Pairing: (Underfell!Sans) / Reader<br/>
Warnings: Unrealistic portrayal of sexual activity</p><p>Day 2: Teasing.<br/>
Themes: Coffee shop | Shopping | Oh god there's no kink I'm sorry | M/F<br/>
Pairing: (Undertale Sans) / Reader<br/>
Warnings: Unrealistic portrayal of people interacting.</p><p>Day 3: Blindfolds<br/>
Themes: Kidnapping | Dubious Consent | Knife Play |<br/>
Pairing:  ??? / Reader<br/>
Warnings: unrealistic portrayal of sexual activity; high anxiety situation</p><p>Day 4: Striptease<br/>
Themes: Strip Poker | Gambling | Gender Neutral/M<br/>
Pairing: (Fellswap Papyrus) / Reader<br/>
Warnings: Unrealistic portrayal of sexual activity.</p><p>Day 5: Latex | Breath Play<br/>
Themes: Choking | Tentacles | Gender Neutral/M<br/>
Pairing: (Fresh!Sans) / Reader<br/>
Warnings: Unrealistic portrayal of sexual activity</p><p>Day 6: Sensory deprivation | Wax Play | Gender Neutral/F<br/>
Themes: | Non-verbal safe word | Art<br/>
Pairing: (Fuku) / Reader<br/>
Warnings: Unrealistic portrayal of sexual activity</p><p>Day 7: Breeding | Rimming<br/>
Themes: Doggie-style | Dirty talk | M/F<br/>
Pairing: (Underfell!Grillby) / Reader<br/>
Warnings: unrealistic portrayal of sexual activity. Trophy-partner treatment (don’t put up with that shit in real life.)</p><p>Day 8: Menophilia | Bukkake<br/>
Themes: Fingering | Oral Sex | Drinking | There are so many hands | M/F<br/>
Pairing: (Echotale!Papyrus) / Reader<br/>
Warnings: Unrealistic portrayal of sexual activity</p><p>Day 9: Pegging | Emetophilia<br/>
Themes: Recreational drug use | Doggie-style | Dildos for days | Gender dysphoria<br/>
Pairing: (Underswap!Papyrus) / Reader<br/>
Warnings: Unrealistic portrayal of sexual activity</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. (Red) That a D-Cell Battery in your Pocket?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Day 1: Multiple Orgasms.<br/>Themes: Overstimulation | Blindfolds | Sex Toys | Dom/Sub | M/F<br/>Pairing: (Underfell!Sans) / Reader<br/>Warnings: Unrealistic portrayal of sexual activity</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was the simplest thing, counting. And as far as simple orders went, you could do it blindfolded and with your hands tied behind your back. Which was exactly the situation you found yourself in. </p><p>The other day you had made an off-handed comment to Red that brats who get bored in bed will find other outlets for amusement. And he was subsequently <i>not</i> amused.</p><p>At least at the time. Now you couldn’t quite peg what was going on. Your blindfold was held securely in place and the normally scratchy hemp ties your lover would use to restrain you (always one to opt for a crueler path when messing around) were replaced with long silk scarves. Their softness was almost foreign.  </p><p>And when you tsked and commented that perhaps he was going soft on you, well, you didn’t even get a slap on your cheek for your troubles. Red hated back talk which was great since you loved to run your mouth and experience the subsequent punishment for it. But this time things were playing out <i>very</i> differently. Instead of a brisk slap or even a tightly pinched nipple, he simply gave your nose (your nose of all things!) a feather-light kiss and said he might have something hard for you later. </p><p>You rolled your eyes at the pun, but of course, he couldn’t tell; too busy digging around in your bedside drawer where all manner of fun things were kept hidden away. You had a guess about what he was looking for, so it was no surprise when you heard one of your vibrators start rumbling lightly. </p><p>“i thought this one packed more oomph,” Red commented as he sat down beside you, the mattress shifting under is added weight. “i’ve got a toothbrush that would put in more work than this.”</p><p>“That’s the black one right? It needs new batteries,” you informed, turning slightly to face him as if you were having a proper discussion and weren’t instead nonchalantly tied up and naked in bed. </p><p>“what the? d-cells, sweetheart? what’n the hell takes d-cell batteries these days? man, this is archaic.” </p><p>“Archaicism would be a steam-powered thrust dildo,” you informed. “I believe the word you are looking for is robust.”</p><p>“‘s long as it helps ya ro<i>bust</i> i won’t complain. ya got spares batteries right?”</p><p>“Should be some in that drawer somewhere.”</p><p>After a few moments of searching you hear him sigh in the affirmative as he began to unscrew the end of your vibrator and dump out the contents on the floor. </p><p>“Hey now don’t you be making a mess of my floor.”</p><p>“sweetheart, i’ll bet fifty bucks that if i looked under your bed i’d find long-forgotten batteries of orgasms past. ya really wanna jump down my throat at a couple more?” he asked, all humor and sass as he worked. “and speaking of throats, open wide for me babe.”</p><p>You for the record didn’t open up, choosing to disobey, but Red coaxed two fingers in your mouth anyways without so much a grumble for your bad behavior; even going as far as to gingerly cup your chin with his free hand while gently thrusting his fingers inside. </p><p>It was hard not to grow concerned as his overall pleasant demeanor was unexpected in every way possible.</p><p>“so, here’s how things’r gonna go.” Red spoke up while his fingers still worked away inside your mouth. “i’m gonna take this here vibrator ‘n these here fingers, and i’m gonna make ya come for me ten times.” Playfully Red slid the large silicone head of your toy along your thigh as he withdrew his fingers from your mouth and began caressing your vulva, lubricating it more with each stroke.  “but ya need to count each one out. ya lose track we don’t start over, but i tack on one more. ya lose track again ‘n i double that first penalty. then double it again if need be. ya following me here?</p><p>“Yup, crystal clear. But ten? That’s all? Easy peasy. You know my limit is higher than that, right?”</p><p>“course i do,” Red shifted on the bed so he was straddling your legs and leaned forward; even with none of his weight on you, the feeling of being smothered was intense. And for the first time that day, Red started sounding like the perma-angry, conniving, take-no-shit dom that you knew him to be. He had the voice of a chain smoker that never had a lozenge in his life, and that deep voice settled into your core, negating the needs for his wet fingers. “but i also know that when ya get closer to that limit, your cognitive abilities start slipping, ‘n your body starts aching. and by the time i’m dragging ya kicking and screaming ‘cross that line, i’m gonna be havin’ a real good time, unlike you. n’ i want to hear ya beg me for more before ya beg me to stop.”</p><p>You heard the familiar buzz seconds before it found purchase against your slick clit. Red knew you liked the head of your toys to stay stationary but he chose to draw large lazy circles on your body while his clever fingers filled you up; a teasy precursor to the main event.</p><p>“Sounds like a cakewalk,” you sighed, trying to sound bored and not turned on by the return of his sharpened voice. </p><p>Your first orgasm takes the longest to achieve since your headspace lies somewhere between ‘this is just how my body works’ and ‘I’m self-conscious at how long I take to come so I overthink and then I <i>can’t</i> come’. But for a lover who usually has zero patience for your bullshit, Red has all the patience in the world when it comes to drawing out that sweet release. And once that first peak is crested and your toes are curled and your breathing quickens the subsequent orgasms are much easier to achieve. </p><p>Red pressed the head of your toy a little harder against you, sounding pleased when your hips bucked against it to control the friction and angle. You knew he was aiming to be time-efficient when he curled his two fingers in a hook shape and began raking them upwards towards your pubic mound. The motion is almost painful at first, but soon your body craved the touch and wanted it more. Wanted it harder. </p><p>At his persistence, or rather his <i>insistenace</i> your whole body throbbed; the waves of pleasure building up more and more from his eager ministrations and it wasn’t long before you found yourself at the tipping point; on the cusp of losing that momentum and your body feeling too damn good to handle. </p><p>Finally, your pleasure crested and your mouth opened up to a silent scream as Red pulled the vibrator off your swollen clit to let your body ride your orgasm without the over-stimulation taking away from it. </p><p>After a moment you sighed. “One.”</p><p>“well done, beautiful.” red switched off the vibrator and shifted again, this time laying down between your legs. “ya look so damn perfect when ya come for me. i can watch that all night. heh, in fact, i’m gonna.”</p><p>And with that, Red settled down between your thighs opting to let his tongue pick up where his fingers left off.  </p><p> </p><p>~~~~~</p><p> </p><p>So full disclosure; you lost track at seven. When you arched your back and sang out a repetitive chorus of ‘ohs’ at your newest climax, you were all but certain that was number eight. Oh well. On to eight to get to ten, plus one is eleven. Easy enough, right? Counting was literally the simplest thing in the world.</p><p>Then at nine, you lost track again. Which meant two more on top of that. Which meant thirteen total, not the twelve that you thought it was for some reason. So on goes another four. But once the pleasure starts mixing with the pain, and they blend into something beautiful and dangerous, you again lose your place, forcing the number higher and higher as your overworked body screams in response. </p><p>You don’t even know what number you were on when you finally broke. </p><p>“I’m sorry. I’m sorry!”</p><p>Within seconds Red’s mouth was at your ear, as he growled. “sorry for wut?”</p><p> </p><p>“For what I said about being bored. I didn’t mean it, so, please. Please stop. You win!” You cried out, your voice cracking at the end.</p><p>Unbeknownst to you, Red sat back with the most satisfied grin. Of course, you broke. It wasn’t a matter of if, but when. </p><p>
  <i>You win</i>
</p><p>Those were his two favorite words in life, second only to free burger. And coming from his favourite human, it didn’t get any better than this. </p><p>
  <i>Unless...</i>
</p><p>Red leaned back and began to unzip his pants. He had been able to ignore the strain of his cock against the fabric before, too engrossed by the task at hand, but now with you laying there, a sweating, whimpering mess beneath him, and looking so wonderfully spent, he just had to add ‘well fucked’ into the mix too. </p><p>You groaned softly but otherwise didn’t protest as he lined up his cock and slowly pressed inside. </p><p>“just one more, sweetheart, that’s all. i’ll even count it for you this time.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you for reading!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. (Sans) Tease and Lattes.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Day 2: Teasing<br/>Themes: Coffee shop | Shopping | Oh god there's no kink I'm sorry | M/F<br/>Pairing: (Undertale Sans) / Reader<br/>Warnings: unrealistic portrayal of people interacting.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Welp. They can't all be zingers. Hopefully the kink will resume soon.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was the end of the beginning when Grillby let slip that one night that Sans had a crush on you. He also said if things were to progress it’d be on you since Sans would never have the gall to make a move. Since then you grew determined to make his life as uncomfortable as possible when you two were together. You were relentless in your pursuit to see the cool blue blush settle across his cheeks. At the start of your onslaught of teasing Sans simply shrugged you off with a wave or a joke, but you could see that over time you were getting to him; widdling down his stony defenses and his front of general apathy.</p><p>This morning you met up in a small kitschy cafe at the heart of the city. The kind with oil paintings of crying piggy banks all over the walls and garden gnomes hidden amongst the silverware. Sans ordered and motioned for you to do the same. You got a generic house latte with extra, <i>extra</i> foam.</p><p>Once seated in oversized bean bag chairs Sans sipped at his drink and prattled on about work, potentially going back to university, and complained about the stagnant progress of something dubbed “the machine.” You weren’t allowed to know details about it or ask questions, but he apparently trusted you enough to vent his frustrations about wanting to reduce it to nothing but an over-glorified toaster. </p><p>The whole time Sans talked you listened intently, stirring your drink slowly, not with a spoon, but with your finger. Sans eye twitched when he noticed, but ignored you and carried on. It was time to bump it up a notch. With the foam from your latte hanging precariously off your index finger you gave him a smoldering look and slowly licked up the entire length of your finger. The drink was mediocre but you hummed in approval, laying it on thick.</p><p>“Thanks a <i>latte for the drink</i> Sans.”</p><p>It wasn’t long after that Sans was coughing into his fist and mumbling about getting your drinks to go and heading out to finish the clothing shopping you wanted to do before having lunch at Grillby’s. You requested his presence while shopping today so you could ask his opinion on outfits you neither needed nor intended to buy. </p><p>Sans waited patiently as you zigzagged through the consignment store pulling this that and the other into a dressing room. Then on went a few outfits; each one showing off a bit more arm and a bit more leg and a bit more thigh than the last. All the while asking what Sans thought of each one. </p><p>“Does this look good for a night at Grillby’s?” You asked innocently, twisting your torso to the side. </p><p>“sure.” Sans muttered, mostly looking at his feet and only stealing quick looks when he thought you weren’t looking.  </p><p>This wasn’t really getting you anywhere, you thought, intending to wrap up the day’s session of Press Sans’ Buttons. That is until you stumbled upon a dress that matched the color of his magic to a tee. You pulled it off the hanger and balled it up against your chest, zipping past him into the dressing room. It had no sleeves and hung to a modest line just above your knees but it was a dress that zipped up at the back and that was the kicker.</p><p>You shimmied into it quickly before poking your head out the door and asking Sans if he could help you. As he approached you pushed the door open while turning your now very exposed back to him. As you predicted, he hesitated. </p><p>“What’s the matter Sansy? Like what you see?”</p><p>Wordlessly he zipped up the dress and took a step back. When you turned to face him his eye lights were gone, leaving nothing but ominous dark pits.</p><p>“Sans?” You spoke softly, your face scrunching in concern. “Hey, what’s up?”</p><p>In response he reached out to your neck, grabbing the price tag and turning it around. After a moment his eyelights returned and he spoke, but his voice was void of any emotion “buy the dress, wear it and meet me at grillby’s. use the back entrance.”</p><p>“But Griullby’s isn’t op-” you tried to say, but he was gone before you could finish. </p><p>What the ever-loving hell was that?</p><p>You checked the price tag concluding it was affordable, but also not something you’d ever pick for yourself. Against any judgment, you decided to follow Sans' sudden but cryptic orders and paid for the dress before waking to Grillby’s bar. Also known as Sans’ second home. </p><p>The fresh air of the short journey did nothing to clear your mind and the whole way you worried that maybe you had finally crossed a line. It’s true you wanted Sans to break, but only in the best ways. ‘Maybe those thoughts are better served communicated’ came a little voice of reason in your head, and quickly you hushed it. </p><p>“Well, I’ve made my bed, time to lay in it.”</p><p>Once you came upon the back alley loading door of the bar you found it was indeed unlocked. Some of the lights were already on inside and there, on the bar dance floor was Sans, eyes closed and sitting in a chair. As soon as you got close he looked up at, expression unreadable. Thankfully it wasn’t the dark socketed expression like before, but it still startled you. </p><p>‘Hey S-.”</p><p>“what’s your aim buddy?” Sans cut you off, crossing his arms over his chest.</p><p>“Aim? What do you mean?”</p><p>“i want to know what your end goal is with me. for weeks now i’ve been trying to suss out if you were all talk and no action. all bark and no bite. cause, as you asked before, i do like what i see. but i’m tired of this song and dance. so, i want you to do whatever it is you had planned.”</p><p>"Planned? What do you mean?”</p><p>“come on kid, you must have some ideas? i’m here, offering myself, and you don’t even know what to do with me?” Sans spayed his arms to the side and leaned back in the chair. </p><p>This was the last thing you ever expected to happen from Sans and you couldn't help but just stare at him in surprise. </p><p>Sans looked to the clock on the far wall. “we have less than one hour before old grillbz comes to open shop. your options are to take me now, or walk away and stop playing games with me.”</p><p>You really did want him. For a while now if you were being honest. Turns out you just had a dumb way of <s>not</s> showing it.  </p><p>You sank to your knees and slipped both hands up Sans’ loose track shorts, admiring the feel of the smooth bone as they moved higher and higher. You worked slowly, paying close attention to his reactions and trying to gauge what he was comfortable with. Sans sighed at the touch and rested his hand behind his head. The bulge of his cock was noticeable even in the baggy shorts and Sans hummed appreciatively when you gently scratched his legs, running your hand back down to his knees. </p><p>“Hmm. So why have me wear the dress? Is that your thing?” you asked as you withdrew your hands and began to loosen the drawstrings of his shorts. </p><p>Sans laughed and scratched under the ride of his nose. “nah, not exactly. i mean it looks fine, don't get me wrong, it's just that if things go the way i thought they would, it would be best if you’re wearing something that wouldn't look stained at the end.”</p><p>You leaned down, nuzzling the length of his cock with your nose before placing a wet kiss at the tip through the fabric as your fingers worked the black shorts down past his hip bones. “I like what you’re implying.” </p><p>“me too. now come on, we have less than an hour. and please. don’t be such a fucking tease.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I honestly don't know. Tomorrow is a new day. Onwards to better things.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. (???) Are you still there?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Day 3: Blindfolds<br/>Themes: Kidnapping | Dubious Consent | Knife Play |<br/>Pairing: (???) / Reader<br/>Warnings: unrealistic portrayal of sexual activity; high anxiety situation</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This one is a touch darker.<br/>Tread lightly if you only want fluffy smut.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It took a long time to realize that the sound of dripping water you were dreaming about was real. It was the only sound reverberating in the small room. At least, you assumed it was a small room. All you could see was inky blackness due to the large padded blindfold obstructing your vision. </p><p>Your body was bound, arms raised above your head with ropes that came as far down as your elbows and when you tried sagging your weight against the restraints, testing their limits, nothing seemed to budge or groan. </p><p>
  <i>It’s ok, It’s ok. I’m safe. I’m safe.</i>
</p><p>This was the mantra you played over and over in your head, in time with each falling drop of water. </p><p>You knew your lover was behind all this. That it was all an act. A way for you two to add new thrills to your intimacy, and offset the slump you had been feeling lately. </p><p>For months now you were feeling like there was something missing in your encounters. Lacking an urgency that you couldn’t quite place your finger on. </p><p>That is, until he said it out loud. </p><p>That what you were craving, was <i>fear.</i></p><p>And then it all made sense.</p><p>You were missing the goosebumps that came with the intuitional sense of danger. The feeling of vertigo as your stomach summer-saults at your helplessness. And the blissful adrenaline that only comes from feeling like prey.</p><p>It started to come up more frequently in your recent discussions. Casually at first, both of you circling around each other, testing the waters. A ‘hey what if here,’ or a ‘how about this,’ there. You talked about boundaries, trying to suss out that fine line between a fun, sexual rush and having a heart attack. Talking to him always felt safe, but you had to wonder how many of your deepest desires and secrets, did he know about?</p><p>Ever since you met he always knew a little bit too much about you. He had guessed all your favourite foods, beloved movies, pet peeves. Knew you lost a parent before you shared that with him. Knew you hated your statistics professor at uni. You chalked it up at the time to just being an overly perceptive person. That and you wore your heart on your sleeve, so really, it’s not like he was the first person to know more than you thought you were letting on. </p><p> </p><p>You all but asked to be stripped of the ability to know it was him. To feel afraid that it could be someone else, ravaging your body against your will. You longed to be put in a situation that was entirely unfamiliar to you. And even though you never said the word out loud, it came to the forefront of your mind now. </p><p>Kidnapping. </p><p>Which made it curious how being here, tied up and blindfolded, was even possible without an awkward ride in the back seat, or an undignified ride in the trunk of a car. Standing in what you could only imagine was a dingy concrete-esque room. The air felt damp and a chill was already settling in under your clothing. </p><p>You went down for a nap earlier, yes. An ideal time to strike, but you were an incredibly light sleeper. It seemed physically impossible that he could, A, steal you from home, B, bring you into this room, and C, bind you without you being cognizant of the journey. </p><p>Perhaps you were drugged? You held your breath, trying to feel overly aware of your body. To feel if maybe your thoughts felt cloudy or sluggish, but all you felt was cold.</p><p>How long had you been standing there, waiting for something to happen? </p><p>Suddenly the sound of soft footsteps behind you caught your attention and you could feel your pulse quicken. </p><p>Closer and closer they came; the only sound in the room aside from the dripping water. A chill ran down your spine, your mind projecting the featherlight touch of a hand running down your body that you fully expected. You held your breath and waited, but nothing happened. </p><p>Then a loud noise of something big and metal clattering to the ground came from your left. You yelled in surprise, body tensed again and strained your neck to the sound, wishing you could see, the warmth of the blindfold now felt heavy and claustrophobic. </p><p>As before, silence returned. </p><p>A long while later (it was hard to keep any true sense of time) another noise picked up in the room. It sounded far away was and hard to place what it was. A dull ring maybe?</p><p>After a moment there was that same noise again. Slowly drawn out, metal on metal, perhaps?<br/>
The tone rising slightly near the end. </p><p>And then again, but closer this time.</p><p>And then closer.</p><p>Closer. </p><p>Until there was no denying that it was the sound of a whetstone on a long blade. </p><p>The last low ring was right at your ear, making you gasp at the sudden closeness.  He was close enough now that you could hear him breathing. </p><p>I <i>was</i> him, wasn’t it?</p><p>Yes, it had to be. </p><p>A touch was expected, but he had yet to lay his hands on you. You sensed him shifting preparing to grasp or stroke, but instead, you felt the flat edge of the knife press gently at your heel.</p><p>You whimpered, not in any sort of pain, but out of fear of being cut in a detrimental place. The blade was then slowly drawn up your leg until it reached the back of your knee, the sensation tickled slightly which mixed oddly with the dread and you cried out again, your voice sounding like a mix of pleasured and hysterical. </p><p>For the first time you realized that while you were stripped of your sight, you were not gaged and could speak freely. </p><p>“Axe is that you?”</p><p>No response. He simply continued to draw the knife up the remainder of your leg. When got to the base of your spine, a fresh wave of goosebumps broke out when the coolness of the blade touched where your skin was slightly exposed. You whined and pulled forward away from the touch, twisting your body as your breathing grew heavier. </p><p>You could feel your body stirring between your legs, begging for more while your mind screamed that you needed to run, to escape. </p><p>You chuckled nervously as the knife made it’s way past your shoulder blades. “Colour me impressed that you set this all up-ahh!” </p><p> </p><p>A large body pressed against your back, one hand grasping your thigh while the cold steel of the knife rested firmly across your neck, digging in and obstructing your breathing ever so slightly. You felt another scream build in your throat but choked it down into a broken sob, afraid to move, even against the unsharpened, backside of the knife. </p><p>“Please, just say something. Let me know it’s you.”</p><p>In response, the blade lifted from your neck and ran up your cheek, just past your temple before turning at an angle that pulled the fabric away from you, and slowly it began to cut.</p><p>With each downward stroke, you felt the thick fabric of the blindfold thinning out more and more. Your eyes were closed when the fabric tumbled to the ground, feeling almost too scared to open them and face the truth.</p><p>And when you did finally opened them you recognized the black silhouette of your figure reflected in a large mirror, in a dark room. Your eyes were only able to see from adjusting to the previous darkness for so long. </p><p>And behind you in the mirror stood nothing.</p><p>To your right, the loud crash of a knife falling to ground pulled your focus as it rattled to a stop.</p><p>“Hello?” </p><p>You couldn't keep the desperation from your voice as you called out again. “Axe?” </p><p>As a last-ditch effort, your voices strained and whispered. “<i>Sans</i>?”</p><p>You didn’t realize you had been crying until now. The tears that were previously absorbed from the blindfold flowed freely, as you were once again, <i>presumably</i> left alone.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Title to be read in the Portal turret voice.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. (Rus) Aces and Spades</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Day 4: Striptease<br/>Themes: Strip Poker | Gambling | Gender Neutral/M<br/>Pairing: (Fellswap Papyrus) / Reader<br/>Warnings: unrealistic portrayal of sexual activity.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Rus tries to weasel out of some money he owes you. Twice.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The whole living room smelled like sex which was fascinating since there were zero amounts of sex going on. It was a smell you started to associate with your friend Rus who was sitting crossed legged on the carpet across from you absentmindedly blowing smoking rings into the air. The smell was a combination of what you assumed was sweat that seeped into his never washed thick hoodie and his cigarettes which also invaded his thread count. </p><p>And some clarity was in order regarding these ‘cigarettes’. They were dog treats he was smoking, which gave off the most indescribable odor. It didn’t smell like burnt dog treats, which was as surprising as being able to physically smoking the things themselves, but gave off an odor of something heady and rich. </p><p>And speaking of the hoodie, it was a million fucking degrees outside and inside was worse for the lack of a breeze, and his lack of any sort of discomfort under all those layers was infuriating. Your fan was working at full power offering only the slightest reprieve while you were literally dying of heat exposure. </p><p>“You smell like sex,” you blurted out thoughtlessly and Rus only froze; the queued up smoking ring slipping from his open mouth and twisting into an oblong shape.</p><p>“that’s funny since i haven't been havin' any darlin’.”</p><p>"That was less a commentary on your risque activities and more an inquiry as to when the hell did you wash that thing last?” you explained, gesturing to the thick fluff lining the rim of the hood that he decided to begin rubbing his face into like a cat nuzzling a leg. "Also, how are you not losing your shit in this heat?"</p><p>"got any cards?"</p><p>"Come again?"</p><p>“cards. ’m bored ‘n i gotta idea to help you with’e heat.”</p><p>You gave him and incredulous look before sarcastically motioning to the wall of many <i>many</i> games behind you. </p><p>“yeah but like, them playin’ cards. Not deck buildin’ cards with titles like 'saboteur' 'n the 'minstrels midnight escapade'. ’m talkin’ aces 'n spades.”</p><p>“Fair enough, and yes I do,” you confirmed while rising to your feet to search for the deck. "What do you have in mind?"</p><p>"strip poker."</p><p>“Dude I have minimal stuff on! I’m playing with the world's cruelest handicap here.” You raised on of your arms up, motioning to your pit stained t-shirt. </p><p>"then load up so we can take it off," he offered.</p><p>"Hang on, there is always a catch with you; what are we playing for, exactly? Other than the awkward joy of being naked in front of each other?” you asked while popping open the plastic case and sliding the deck of cards towards him. </p><p>“say, 50 bucks?” he offered while grabbing the cards and began casually shuffling. </p><p><i>Bingo.</i>  </p><p>“Holy shit, is this a way for you to get out of paying the money you owe me?” You asked incredulously.</p><p>Come on ya know ’m good for it. i’ll totally getcha back. 'n it’s nothing like that darlin'. just thought why not <i>sweet'n</i> the pot, ya know?"</p><p>You didn’t buy it for a second, and the way he said sweeten while looking you up and down made goosebumps rise on your arms which you hastily scratched away. You were going to take the bait. In all your years of friendship with Rus, you had managed to hide the fact that you were wicked at poker, and doubling the money he owed you seemed like a productive use of your day. Even if you’d have to show him an ankle or two. </p><p>"Alright, you’re on. Gimmie a sec to load up."</p><p>When you came back you immediately hated your life even more. The room still sweltered and between the underwear, tank top, t-shirt, shorts, socks, and hoodie you were wearing you were just about ready to throw the match, strip, and stand on your balcony for the world to enjoy. You had also brought over a peanut-butter-bear jar of pennies and dished 20 to the both of you.</p><p>Rus cocked a brow bone as you divided out the change. "thought it was <i>clothes on the line</i> darlin'. </p><p>"They are, but what’s to stop you from seeing your cards and folding each time? We’re still using a big blind small blind, and you can fold but every time we get 10 coins they can be cashed in so one of us loses a piece of clothing."</p><p>Rus considered this while you continued. </p><p>"It lets you not just straight out loose clothes on a crappy deal, instead opting to lose your bet and still be able to play the field. Honestly, I didn't know you even played poker Rus." </p><p>"oh, ’ve won a few hands here 'n there. some people will gamble anythin'."</p><p>Flexing that poker face muscle you deadpanned and ignored him. </p><p>"are my jokes gonna be a problem?"</p><p>You sighed while rubbing your temples. Fuck his humor. “Not at all Rus. I'll just have to <i>deal</i> with it.”</p><p>That earned you a smile for your troubles as you tossed in your little blind. Rus slid in his big blind and immediately passed you each two cards. The ace of spades and a queen of hearts greeted you. </p><p>
  <i>Not bad<i></i></i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>Rus slowly dealt out the flop, three face-up cards, and for a split second his eyes went wide. Queen of diamonds, six of spades, and the king of clubs. You watched Rus intently. The cards on the table weren’t going anywhere. What was important was watching for his tells, and right now he was obviously concerned. With a pair of queens at hand, you slid another coin in, waiting for his action. Rus responded in kind before dealing out the two remaining cards; a jack of hearts and a queen of clubs.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>His shoulders slumped with a barely noticeable sigh of relief before his eyes met yours, the smug grin back on his face. He flipped over his cards and leaned back, “two pair,” and sure enough he had two queens and two jacks. </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>“That would be sweet if it didn’t lose to my three of a kind,” you informed as you revealed the third queen before collecting the spoils and cards. Discretely you thumbled them out, counting as you went. It's not that you wanted to assume Rus was cheating, you just wouldn't put it past him. </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>The year you met him downtown in the heart of the city you had dropped your bag in a puddle on the sidewalk, the contents spilling out. A stranger at the time, Rus bent down to help collect your things and two random aces fell from the sleeve of his hoodie. He never did elaborate, but then again you never asked.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>Reluctantly he unzipped and shrugged off his hoodie, revealing a loose black tank top that showed off his collar bones. </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>“That was just a warm-up, right?” you offered.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>"'s right darlin'. let’s go.”</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>So Rus was really bad at poker. During the second round, he snickered and made a quiet joke to himself about a dog’s hand. He obviously had a king and a 9 (K9), so you folded immediately when a ten, jack, and queen were revealed on the flop. He almost looked like a sad puppy when you did. Rus made it too easy, though you suspected not intentionally. The guy just let on more than he should, and you suspected all his past experiences playing poker was with drunk dudes in a bar who had no poker face themselves and couldn’t bluff worth shit. </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>Rus grumbled under his breath as he began to take off his first sock of the day. You laughed at his soured mood; almost forgetting about the heat. “It’s a new dawn Rus, toss em in."</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>~~~~~~~~</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>The afternoon progressed with frustrations on both sides. Rus hated losing, and losing he was. His second sock went next, then begrudgingly his spiked belt. He finally worked up enough to cash in 10 pennies and you tossed your hoodie across the living room with a scream and more force than was ever necessary for anything. And that was where the buck stopped. If you didn’t fold, you won. If you folded you didn’t lose clothes. And poor Rus sat there, a fuming ball of hate taking off more and more, even going so far as to grab his tuque from his bag and pull it on. You didn’t care. It would all go eventually.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>The main problem you found out, with Rus losing all his clothes, would be that Rus was no longer wearing all his clothes. A fact that you overlooked in the face of making your chump of a friend owe you more money but now, it was startlingly hard not to stare. Especially as he laid back on the carpet, hips lifted in the air so he could slide down his pants before pulling them off completely.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>"’m a little annoyed."</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>"Me too, but you go first."</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>"’m actually tryin' to fuckin' win here. figured you were an easy mark. didn’t think you’d hustle me outta all my clothes."</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>"And I didn’t think I'd spend my afternoon as a human sauna. Life sucks then you die, Rus." </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>A silence fell between you. Rus was your friend, but now with him sitting in your living room in nothing but a tank top, your newfound attraction towards him was was hard to bite back. It was probably obvious in the way you were staring and your heavy breathing. You only hoped it didn’t come off as creepy if he wasn't into it.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>"you’re starin' darlin'"</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>"Shhhhh. I don’t talk to losers. Now, do you need help with that shirt or...?"</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>Rus spread his legs wide and titled his pelvis before looking you dead in the eyes. He seemed to be contemplating something. FInally, he spoke up. “i think i do.” </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>Your heart rate spiked at the tone in his voice as you wordlessly you crawled over on your knees to sit within his splayed legs. Your eyes stayed locked and Rus visually swallowed as your eager hand played with the hem of his tank top, hoping to draw out the burn even longer. </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>“just so you know, i won’t be upset if your hands slip.” </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>"That’s good. I’m feeling kinda shaky." </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>"maybe do it slowly? really getta feel for it, ya know?"</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>You nodded in response and licked your lips.  </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>You took your time when you slipped your hand under his shirt. His bones were hotter than you thought they’d be, but that could just be the million-degree temperature. Or maybe it had something to do with arousal. Rus certainly wasn’t sweating in his hoodie before your game, but now his magic was flush across his face. </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>He rolled his head back and groaned when you thumbed the sides of his ribs before slowly walking your fingers up in a spider-esque crawl. You glanced down and saw that not only was his face alight with a rusty orange hue but so was his pelvis. You imagined raking your fingers across it and seeing what would happen, and by proxy your nails lightly scratched into his ribs.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>He gasped at the touch and you could barely make out the faintest whisper, “harder.”</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>Oh, you were done for. This wasn’t going to end with just a little striptease. You had to draw this out before you took what you wanted and gave what he wanted; subsequently changing the course of your friendship forever.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>“I’m not sure I know what I’m doing Rus. Maybe you could show me first?”</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>Rus rolled his head back around to face you and adjusted his seat on the floor. His voice sounded strained as he tried to regain his breath. “sure thing darlin. arms up.”</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>You closed your eyes and felt the light strokes of Rus’ fingers under your shirt but over your tank top. You hummed at his touch, wishing it was on your flesh. The excitement of something new and uncharted with Rus felt overwhelming, and knowing he was just as into it made better. Once Rus slipped the shirt over your head he gently raked his fingers down your back, pulling your chest into his face as he kissed where your exposed collar bone was. </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>Arousal spiked between your legs and you kissed and licked at the top of his skull, desperate to feel his hands wander lower than your waistline, but unwilling to speed things up. You wanted to bask in this for as long as possible. </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>“mmm… this hasn’t gone the way i planned. can we call this whole game a write-off?” He asked, face still pressed against you. </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>You chuckled and began to scratch his skull with one hand while soothingly rubbing in its place with the other. </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>“Sure. But you still owe me the original 50 bucks.” </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>Rus released his grip and pushed you back to look up at your face. “50 bucks says you won't be able’t walk ina hour."</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>Rus, the chain-smoking, sugar-loving layabout wanted to make a stamina based bet with you?</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>This poor boy. When would he learn? Your respectable day's wardrobe still on your body was proof that you always had the upper hand.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>“Deal.”</i>
  </i>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. (Fresh) Storms'a Brewin</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Day 5: Latex | Breath Play<br/>Themes: Choking | Tentacles | Gender Neutral/M<br/>Pairing: (Fresh!Sans) / Reader<br/>Warnings: Unrealistic portrayal of sexual activity</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was alarming how hard it was raining, and trapped in the confines of a tiny (but dry!) bus shelter it sounded like you were standing under a waterfall. </p><p>Which you kind of were. </p><p>It poured in what seemed like literal buckets. No pitter-patter rhythm to follow tonight, just an unrelenting stream of a vertical sky river. The rain made it almost impossible to see your friend's dark house from just across the street and you were trying to hedge your bets between waiting out the storm and bum-rushing the door. It was so close, yet far enough that you would be drenched in mere seconds. </p><p>Despite being relatively dry now the cold was starting to set in; for under your terribly light and NOT storm-proof clothing was the shiny, tight black secret you were wearing. </p><p>A full-body latex outfit that left nothing to the imagination. The kind of aesthetic that would only be worn out of the house by professionals and exhibitionists. Neither of which you were.</p><p>No, you were but a simp with a terrible idea cleverly disguised as a brilliant idea. </p><p>After all, going out to your platonic friend’s house for a movie night wearing BDSM clothing under your regular duds without checking the weather first was a calculated risk. </p><p>But god damn were you bad at math. </p><p>Any other day you’d text Stretch for a shortcut inside the house and all it would cost you were some jabs at your expense for your lack of foresight, but shortcuts were a no-go tonight. Blue had sent the message while you were already on the bus that his brother broke his collarbone trying to show off to some kids downtown by playing hopscotch while doing a one-armed handstand. And now they were going to be very late since they were still at the hospital waiting to be seen but you were welcome to head over and let yourself inside.</p><p>It was a story that would smack of a lie had Stretch been showing off to anyone other than a bunch of kiddos. He was as reserved as a table at a high-end restaurant but a complete sucker for kids. </p><p>Minutes had gone by without a shift in the rain and there was no choice but to make a run for it. Or a swim; it was pretty much the same thing at this point. You bolted across the road and the moment you left the sidewalk your shoes were instantly soaked from the flooding water in the street.   </p><p>Within seconds the slow creeping chill of the evening was replaced with a teeth-chattering cold as you ran. You made it up in the front steps and punched in the door’s numeric keycode before slamming the door shut behind you. Your clothing immediately began forming a puddle of water at your feet as you hastily removed them.</p><p>As terrible a thought as it was, Stretch injuring himself worked out splendidly for you in the end. While they were away you were free to deal with this outfit fiasco without an audience or the need for an explanation. You’d pop those soggy hush-puppies in the dryer and by the time they got back you would be all covered up again and no one would know about the scandalous choice of attire</p><p>Once your heavy clothes were amassed into a dripping ball (thinking after the fact that you probably should have removed them on the porch) you flipped on the entrance light to better traverse the stairs to the laundry room and quickly ascended. </p><p>As soon as you got to the dryer your clothes were unceremoniously thrown inside while you fiddled with the unfamiliar machine, so focused on maneuvering the heat settings that you didn’t notice the approach of someone right behind you. </p><p>“yo, wassup broseph?”  </p><p>You screamed and spun around on the spot, coming face to face with none other Sansy Fresh.</p><p>You tried to keep a sweet smile on your face despite the scare, but you felt it falter once it clicked in your brain that the sunglasses Fresh always wore bore the word WO-AH in the frames for a moment before defaulting back to the standard YO-LO. </p><p>You could feel your face begin to heat up both from embarrassment and annoyance. The ultra laid back skeleton was not typically an unwelcome sight but the two of you were certainly not close enough yet that you wanted this much of you revealed. And while Fresh was welcome to his thoughts, there was something irksome about having it plainly spelt out for you in this exact moment.</p><p>“Hey Fresh. Sorry for screaming,” you said while crossing your arms against your chest in a feeble attempt to cover up while trying to pretend like you were having a casual conversation while not dressed up like a sex kitten,  “I didn't hear you come in.”</p><p><i>Please,</i> you thought. <i>Whatever god is out there let us not talk about the rubber elephant in the room.</i></p><p>“that’s ‘cause i’ve been waiting here for a couple of hours now dawg. i got the invite ta come over and watch some funky fresh flicks and that sounded rad ta me.” Fresh, for his part, proceeded to look you straight in the eye for the entire conversation; which was a swell gesture. But then you had a fleeting thought that it was hard to tell where someone's eyes were when they’re wearing sunglasses and you wrapped your arms tighter across your chest. “anyways, once i heard ya go upstairs i thought i should come to see what’s the haps, ya dig?”</p><p>Well, there was a helluvan image; Fresh hiding alone and quiet in the house with all the lights off this whole time. Yeah, that wasn’t a thought you wanted to have any more. At the very least you weren’t having the obvious discussion. Turning back to the dryer to continue cycling through the settings, you settled on ‘quick dry’ before pressing the start button with a bit more force than necessary then marched your way past Fresh and down the hall.</p><p>Fresh followed along behind you, sliding on his heelys despite the upstairs being carpeted.</p><p>“I don’t know if you heard, but Stretch is getting his collarbone fixed up at the hospital,” you explained while walking up to the brightly painted door belonging to the shorter of the skeletal duo. You spared Fresh a glance then reached for the handle, “so it’ll just be you and me for a while.”</p><p>“yeah he laid the news on me. hopscotch injury? that’s straight trippin. hey brah, that’s blue’s room. why ya going in?” Fresh inquired as he leaned against the doorframe. He didn’t try to stop you, but his glasses punctuated his question with their display of ?-?.</p><p>“I’m just grabbing some PJs for now. I’m sure Blue won’t mind.</p><p>“ahh, ta cover up your weird bondage suit. i dig ya.”</p><p>So much for not talking about it.</p><p>You opted to ignore his comment while snagging a t-shirt and a pair of baggy pj bottoms from Blue’s dresser and putting them on quickly. If this joke of a night was a movie it certainly would read like some stupid cheesy rom-com. </p><p>“s’cool brokowski. i ain't one ta cramp your style, even if i can’t say i really get it.”</p><p>Well, that was something at least; of all the things to deal with tonight, your style not being cramped was such a relief… </p><p>You shook your head in exasperation before taking stock of the situation again. Of course Fresh would be here at the most inopportune time; it’s practically his second home.</p><p>There were not many places in the city where the radical, chill talking skeleton was welcome. Or at least <i>genuinely</i> welcome on all fronts. The kind of welcome where you’re happy to see them come up the steps with a large bowl of something to contribute to the potluck, instead of the kind of welcome where you can’t bring yourself to turn them away, but you still glare at the punch bowl they brought and discreetly pour it out when you think they aren’t looking. </p><p>Fresh could fast-talk his way into most people's hearts (even yours at times) but he also had a vibe about him where if you didn’t love it, you probably hated it. And when it came to the skeletal gang, most of them kept their distance when he was around. For what it was worth Fresh always seemed to take it in stride and wave off any bad mojo with finger guns and the insistence that everything was fantastical.</p><p>You think that’s why Blue convinced his brother to invite Fresh to their home so often for movie nights or dinners and what have yous. Blue could probably relate to being a bit too big, too extra for the room, and didn’t want him to feel left out. And while Blue would never admit it out loud, Blue was a tiny bit scared of Fresh and he most likely regretted those feelings. The fact that Fresh was a parasitic creature feeding and living off the soul of another Sans was always a tough nugget of truth for Blue to swallow. </p><p> </p><p>But that just made the task of being friends with Fresh that much more important, and if friendship was a sport, befriending the thing that could snatch your body and strip you of your free will was certainly one of the most badass sports of all. </p><p>You on the other hand didn’t have to worry. The parasite, from what little you managed to learn (and assume, mostly) was of no threat to humans and Fresh was always amicable whenever your paths happened to cross. Even now when you wished they would very much not have crossed and would almost rather be standing back out in the rain. </p><p>But here you were. Awkwardly swaying in the doorway unsure of what to do next. The clothes were helping to warm you up, but that was about all the good they did. For covering you up nicely they may as well have not been there at all for how exposed you still felt. And Fresh just stood there too, waiting for something to happen.</p><p>“Cartoons?” You finally offered with a shrug.</p><p>“funking rad my dude.”</p><p>The downstairs flooring was hardwood, (which made Fresh scooting around on his heelys far less confusing) and you heard the rumble of wheels on wood when Fresh shortcutted out of the upstairs hallway. </p><p>Outside the storm raged on as a bright flash of lightning lit up the still dark house, followed quickly by a harrowing crack of thunder. Fresh had the lights on by the time you entered the room and was already sprawled out on the chesterfield, flicking absentmindedly from channel to channel. “this is one gnarly storm eh, brah?” he offered before settling on a show about some young hippies and their Great Dane solving mysteries.” </p><p>Wordlessly you sat down in the sole armchair and settled in while piling the decorative pillows high on your lap. Stretch and Blue would probably be home soon, and if your psychedelic compadre could keep his funky-fresh mouth shut when they did arrive then the rest of the evening could progress normally. With a twinge of guilt you realized you were only feeling concerned about Stretch’s health now that you were out of the metaphorical woods.  </p><p>Halfway through the current episode the power cut out and the house was reduced to the same gloomy darkness as when you entered, only difference was now you were aware of the parasite's presence. </p><p>“aw man. bit of a buzzkill, eh?” </p><p>“Sure is,” you replied while standing up, sending pillows toppling to the ground. “Hang on a sec. I know where they keep their flashlight.” Quickly you strode from the living room towards the junk draw in the kitchen where Blue kept their emergency knick-knacks. </p><p>You expected the jaunt to be tricky in the dark. What you didn’t expect was there to be a skateboard laying in the middle of the house that sent you sprawling down to the floor, shrieking out a chorus of colourful swears as you fell. </p><p>Why? Why was there a skateboard in the kitchen, you thought.</p><p>“Why is there a skateboard in the kitchen?!” You asked. Maybe asked was a bit soft. Demanded was more accurate.</p><p>“language brah. swearing is wack. and the board is there in case i need ta make a super fly entrance.”</p><p>“You already have wheels on your shoes,” you accused, still laying on the floor and making no attempt to rise.</p><p>When the initial pain from the fall subsided you opened your eyes to find Fresh’s arms dangling lazily over the back of the chesterfield as he looked at you over the rim of his glasses. The word OU-CH was visible even in the dark.</p><p>Ouch indeed you thought bitterly while lifting yourself up to <i>carefully</i> resume your trek to the kitchen. When you found the flashlight it thankfully had working batteries and lit up the space at least a little bit. Instead of heading back to the living room, you opted to sit at the table to put some distance between the two of you while you nursed your ego, feeling certainly annoyed at Fresh but lashing out would have felt wrong. Even if your anger would most likely go unnoticed you didn’t feel like picking a fight tonight. </p><p>A glance at your phone provided you with no update on the boy's return and you sighed, laying your head down on the crook of your arm; now feeling too exhausted to properly enjoy a movie night when they finally did return. </p><p>Fresh sauntered in the kitchen and joined you at the table. “ya alright dude? didja hurt yourself?”</p><p>You shook your head in response. “Just tired now.”</p><p>“cool cool.”</p><p>The silence stretched on for a few minutes before Fresh got bored and began to flick the propellor on his hat. It was such a tacky thing to wear you couldn’t help but smile. Fresh was a walking fashion crime, at least in this day and age and it made you wonder if the reclusive parasite found its host sometime back in the eighties and imprinted on the culture at that time. Or perhaps it was just the norm among all the parasites to say ‘wiggity wiggity wazzup?’ as a form of hello. </p><p>“ya like my rad hat brah?” He asked while sitting further back in the chair and adjusting his glasses. </p><p>“I guess so. I kinda like all your clothes; it reminds me of my childhood, though I'd never be caught dead wearing that now…” Your train thought faded away as you realized just how unfortunate the power outage was. </p><p>
  <i>The clothes in the dryer!</i>
</p><p>You muttered another descriptive string of expletives (prompting another scolding from Fresh) before smacking your forehead on the table and making a half-assed attempt at crying. “My clothes,” you lamented, “depending on how long the power is out they probably won’t dry in time and the odds of me keeping my outfit of choice between the two of us are dwindling by the second.”</p><p>Fresh scooted his chair closer to the table and leaned forward, resting his chin on a balled fist. For the first time in your entire life, you had what was maybe a glimpse at the real Fresh. Thanks to the light of the flashlight, you had seen quick movements behind his right lens that emanated a deep purple yet almost black hue. A stark reminder that the body was a Sans, but your night’s companion was someone else entirely. </p><p>“why didja wear it?” he asked softly. “seems like an un-radical thing ta do if you’re ashamed.”</p><p>Why indeed.</p><p>“Some outfits just make people feel…” you hesitated, trying to find the right words. “Confident? Or sexy, or maybe even <i>right</i> in some cases? It can be another way to express things without having to say anything at all.” </p><p>“then this is self-expression, but you’ve been trying ta avoid expressing it?” Fresh often got bored easily and only grew curious about things on a shallow enough level to placate that boredom, and you were used to answering his random questions about how the world worked until he grew tired of that and moved on to the next thing. But rarely were the questions ever about you. His glasses were back to displaying question marks and it was hard to tell but Fresh seemed genuinely interested in the conversation; him actively trying to understand your thought process was unusual. </p><p>“Yes, well. This outfit fit is typically meant to be seen in a more intimate setting.” </p><p>“so why are ya wearing it ta your friends' movie night my dude? that’s just…” Fresh paused, cocking his head to the side as his glasses slid down his nasal ridge reading the word WA-CK.</p><p>“Wack?” you offered plainly.</p><p>“exactly dawg, it’s wack.” </p><p>You groaned in frustration, unsure how to convey the idiosyncrasies that come from having a soul with complex desires in a way that made logical sense to a creature with no soul of its own. Not that you were implying that Fresh was completely incapable of having feelings; it’s more that the values of someone that latches on to another life for survival are far more basic in nature than the values regarding something as niche as style and sexual preferences. </p><p>This was a weird conversation to be having with Fresh and you were feeling something between the realms of embarrassment and arousal. On more than one occasion you had decided that you could see yourself really liking Fresh as more than a friend if the possibility ever existed for him to like anything on a deeper level, which it didn’t. Other than 80’s paraphernalia of course. It was certainly not something to lose sleep over and in fact, things were easier this way. </p><p>Fresh was a parasite. A magical, virulent soul-sucking parasite. He was also flighty and weird, and sometimes annoying and currently scooching his chair closer to yours. </p><p>“what does it feel like?” he asked plainly, looking down at your stomach.</p><p>“Excuse me?” you inquired, your chest tightening in confusion and excitement at his question. </p><p>“the.. black stuff you're wearing. it looks heckin’ smooth. is it?”</p><p>That took you by surprise. Up until now, he took no physical interest in your clothes other than why you had them on but this… “Do you want to touch it?” Fresh’s gaze was still on your body, and while he didn't answer his glasses flashed the word YE-AH for a brief second. You took that as a green light and reached out your hand towards his while lifting the baggy shirt with the other exposing a small amount of the latex bodysuit. “You can if you want.” </p><p>He pulled back his hand from you quickly and moved it under the table and pushed his chair back. “Sorry. I should have been clearer Fresh.” You stood up from the table to gain a height difference over him, allowing you to look down past his sunglasses and into his sockets where the dark writhing mass from before shrank back. “I meant do YOU want to touch it?”</p><p>Even though it was the same question Fresh understood your meaning this time and the tension hung in the air as you awaited an answer, hoping that his curiosity for “weird human biz” wasn't satiated for the night.</p><p>He didn’t move, but chuckled as he exhaled. “i don’t think ya fully know what you’re asking my guy.”</p><p>You shrugged and sat back down. “It’s not like you can hurt me. I’m a human.”</p><p>His voice shifted and his words came out cold and precise instead of their usually lackadaisy tone. <b>“and what gave ya that silly, little, thought?”</b> This time Fresh rose up from his seat to tower over you. The faint glow of his magic now far more visible in the low light. </p><p>You gulped in genuine concern at what he was implying. “I’m not a compatible host?” you stammered, the fact coming out more like a desperate question. </p><p>“nah brah, not incompatible,” he laughed as his glasses read out the work WI-NK. “more like… unideal. but ya still have a perfectly squeezable little soul that’s just as easy to consume if i really wanted. now. <b>ask me again.</b></p><p>You could hear the blood pounding in your ears as your pulse quickened. You could trust Fresh right? He’s never hurt you before. Hell, even Stretch trusted him alone around his brother. </p><p>“Do you want to touch <i>me?</i>” You asked, altering the question slightly in a hushed voice. </p><p>“<b>yeah, i do, but under my terms</b>,” he growled. In one quick motion, Fresh swiped the flashlight off the table. It clattered to the floor, plastic shattering as the light went out, blanketing the kitchen in a renewed darkness. </p><p>Fresh took a step forward and pulled you off the chair, guiding you to your knees as he assumed a similar stance. You heard his ever-present glasses clatter to the floor as he leaned down, grasping your arms tightly in his hands and resting his forehead against your cheek. </p><p>You held back a gasp as something cold and slimy trailed down your cheek towards your neck, leaving your flesh chilled in its wake as it slipped under your borrowed shirt. It felt like a small tendril and after a moment there were more of the writhing things on your face, moving downward to press firmly on your collar bone, rubbing against the latex material. </p><p>This was insane. Having your body touched by parasitic tentacles was surreal and not at all where you thought the night would go. This was probably the weirdest thing you’d ever done, or ever would do since you were no longer convinced you’d be making it out of this unscathed. Still the desire to press on burned brighter than the sensible voice informing you <i>that’s enough</i>. </p><p>In the dark and with Fresh pressed right up to you it was impossible to see him properly and gauge what he was getting out of all this. He never said a word and the only sound in the room was from the wet friction on your body and your shaky breathing. You wanted to look down and see him properly but the vantage was all wrong.  </p><p>Just as soon as you had that thought Fresh adjusted his stance and moved his face up higher so his right socket was covering your right eye. More tendrils sprawled forward, rubbing against your face. On your lips, across your nose, down your chin. When you felt him try to pry open your tightly shut eyelid you balked, attempting to pull back from him.</p><p>“<b>I want ta know what ya feel like on the inside. Wontcha let me in?</b>”</p><p>You shook your head, smearing more of the cool slime across your face and neck. “N-not that way,” you whispered before opening your mouth and sticking out your tongue. </p><p>“<b>tight, brah</b>,” was the only warning you got before a mass of tendrils pushed their way past your lips. Some rubbed against your teeth, others prodded at your cheeks, but most of them slid their way slowly down your throat. </p><p>Terror casually began to creep into the back of your mind as your nerves started to break. Tears streamed down your face, mixing with Fresh’s slime. You struggled against his grip now unable to breathe for how long he was playing down your throat. Fresh got the hint when you tilted your head back and he easily withdrew from your mouth. </p><p>You coughed once you could breathe again, drool dripping from your chin and on to your borrowed clothes. To your surprise, the watery slime didn’t taste like anything. </p><p>“I forgot ya need to breathe.”</p><p>“That’s ok,” you countered, still gasping for air and trying desperately to keep the mood jovial despite the fact that this had turned from a rom-com to a Lovecraftian horror, “I forgot you <i>don’t</i> breathe. He chuckled and loosened his grip on your arms, letting you move off of your knees to fall back on your butt. Once you were settled, Fresh reached down and ever so slightly lifted the hem of the t-shirt. You raised your arms without hesitation and he quickly removed the garment. </p><p>Fresh hummed in approval of the view before cupping either side of your face with his hands. “that’s one radtastic body ya got.”</p><p>“You would know, being a conisour of bodies and all,” you joked while keeping your eyes squeezed shut. They were slathered in whatever the hell Fresh was coated in and you didn't want to risk getting any in your eyes. After a moment you felt his tentacles rub against your lips again. “So, how do I taste?” </p><p>“like fear, which is par for the course broseph. but there’s another flavour that i can’t put my finger on. it’s brand spanking new.” For emphasis Fresh tapped one of his fingers against your cheek.</p><p>“Like oregano?”</p><p>“that’s not an emotion, brah.” </p><p>Your flavour was based on emotions? Well, then that made it obvious. He was tasting your arousal in the most unconventional way. It made sense that none of his previous hosts tasted like that. Surely this whole thing was as uncharted for him as it was you. Still, you kept that revelation to yourself. </p><p>Fresh also seemed to have moved on. “<b>i gotta question for ya. how long can ya hold your breath</b>?”</p><p>You shrugged in response, leaning forward to nuzzle your face into his body. His ams? Appendages? Either way, once you sort of got over the craziness, he felt rather nice. “Wanna find out?”</p><p>“<b>heckin yeah</b>.”</p><p>That was all the warning you got before his smooth tendrils made their way back into your mouth, this time thrusting harder down your throat. You moaned around him and Fresh’s fingers gripped tighter on your cheeks.</p><p>This time he stayed inside you until your body rocked in a desperate need for air, pulling out only when you began to whine. As you tried to steady your breathing, his tendrils moved from your face to wrap around the front of your neck, tightening against you and restricting your airflow yet again. What little air you had left escaped you in a breathy moan as you leaned back to better expose your neck. </p><p>It was too much and at the same time not enough. You reached up and pawed at his grip around you. Not to loosen it, but to revel in the sensation. When he did loosen his grip ever so slightly you took what little air you could before he resumed his hold. </p><p>The sudden sound of a car pulling into the driveway snapped both of you from your reverie and Fresh swore (like a goddamn sailor) under his breath before snatching up your borrowed shirt and teleporting you into the upstairs bathroom. </p><p>“What the actual fuck just happened?” you mused out loud while turning on the taps and rinsing your face in the sink. After drying off you looked up to see your dark silhouette in the mirror and out of curiosity you flicked on the light switch to find the power was indeed back. </p><p>You took a better look at your features. Your face was flush but looked just fine after a quick rinse. There were no telltale stains of some mystery fluid to be hastily covered up with some bullshit story. Even more surprising was that your neck looked no worse for wear. No marks, no bruising. The thought of Fresh being careful enough not to really hurt you warmed your heart. </p><p>You smiled at your reflection in the mirror before slipping the shirt back on and rushing towards the hall to restart the dryer, feeling giddy about how the night had unexpectedly progressed. </p><p>There was undoubtedly a story to be told about Stretch’s injury and you were eager to see how he and Blue were holding up. On your way to the laundry room, you could hear the conversation happening in the kitchen.</p><p>“brobro mc never-skates had a little accident with my board and dropped the flashlight. sorry dude, i’ll be sure to replace it for ya.”</p><p>“Oh, there’s no need for that!” Blue assured. “Accidents happen. Where are they now? Are they ok?”</p><p>You huffed in annoyance at Fresh blaming you for his little outburst, but you already knew you’d forgive him. All you could do now was pray that whatever sparked his curiosity tonight was not a fleeting phenomenon and there would be at the very least, a round two in the future.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I swear to god if I spend the next week talking like Fresh cause of this chapter Imma funk up some shiz-nit and kick it hardcore.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. (Fuku) Heat of the Moment</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Day 6: Sensory deprivation | Wax Play<br/>Themes: | Non-verbal safe word | Art<br/>Pairing: (Fuku) / Reader<br/>Warnings: Unrealistic portrayal of sexual activity</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Fuku wasn’t always accustomed to taking the metaphorical wheel.  </p><p>She had no direction in her life Underground, so she chose to stand still. Wait out the nothingness until more nothing could happen because nothing mattered. </p><p>But that was then and things were different now. Years after leaving the mountain and seeing the sunset for the first time she had a job she loved, a found family for support a not only a roof over her head but a 200k mortgage with it to boot.  </p><p>The very same roof she was under now, and more specifically in her dining room. A large plastic sheet that reached down to the floor was draped over her dining table to protect it from any messes there might be tonight. </p><p>The family, job the house… it was all second third, and fourth compared to the human who was laying on the table. They were the best thing her body had ever moved her towards and she vowed she would never be stagnant again because her place was moving forward with them at her side.</p><p>But those were sentimental thoughts. </p><p>And tonight’s thoughts were meant to be more carnal in nature.</p><p>The room’s lights were dimmed and the space around Fuku filled with smoke. </p><p>Fuku wore around her neck a makeshift choker, made with aromatic herbs twisted into a tight braid; soaked in water so they would slowly burn from prolonged contact with her green flames and billow small tendrils of smoke throughout the room. It filled the space with a powerful and heady aroma, taking over the sense of smell of the human that lay before her. </p><p>That was the first sense to be manipulated and forcibly be obstructed. </p><p>The sense of smell was hard to take away when one wasn’t normally aware of any sort of scent at all. It was like breathing or blinking, one just forgot about it after a while, unless something stirred the need to be aware of it. </p><p>So instead of the usual scent of nothingness or, at most, the faint whiff of Fuku’s clean body, she opted to overwhelm her lover with something floral and strong and different.</p><p>The next thing to go was sight, stipped easily enough when a silk bandage was fastened securely around their eyes.</p><p>Fuku looked at the large tray of supplies, taking one last stock as she counted in her head all the colours of the rainbow and then some. Fuku was no artist, but she did have a picture in mind for tonight's affair and how lucky was she that her canvas was also her muse. </p><p>And speaking of muses, she held their hand, pulling back gently to coax them to sit up on the table. She had almost forgotten the glass of water standing idly by and who could blame her, with such a beautiful, naked distraction sprawled out like an all you could buffet. </p><p>They hadn’t even started, not really, and a thin veil of sweat was already forming on their brow. ‘Dehydration was nobody's friend,’ some words of wisdom from her business savvy uncle. Even if this was most likely not what he had in mind when he said it.</p><p>She waited patiently until every last drop of the cool water was gone before helping them settle down on the table again. </p><p>“Speak now or forever hold your peace,” Fuku said, punctuating the saying with a quick kiss on their lips. A kiss they returned in lieu of any verbal response. </p><p>Next came the PVC tape, covering trembling lips and woven carefully behind their neck, assuring there would be no words other than Fuku’s tonight. Not that they would be heard; the headphones would see to that. And speaking of…</p><p>Fuku grabbed the large noise-canceling headphones from the table and very carefully covered their ears so as not to squish them with the thick foam. </p><p>“Can you hear me?” Fuku asked, beginning to walk around the table, greedily taking in the display at all angles. When they didn’t respond she snapped her fingers by their face. They didn’t flinch. Only breathed through their nose, inhaling what Fuku liked to fantasize was her essence; as if they were literally breathing her to survive. </p><p><i>Woah, that sounds like a God complex and an inflated ego al a narcissist all wrapped into one leatherbound book of issues. First edition even. Hm, did I just kink shame myself?</i> she thought wistfully. </p><p>The final piece was a small bell with a loop of rope tied through the handle. The rope was then placed around their wrist with the bell held firmly in hand. Fuku had the power and the wheel of this journey was securely in her hands, but power was a dangerous thing when one-sided. </p><p>Her sweet little human need only to ring or drop the bell and it would all come to an end. Or at the very least a halt until any wrongs were righted. </p><p>On the table, there were rows and rows of colorful low burning candles for Fuku to choose from. Colours as bright popsicles and others soft and muted.</p><p>Fuku picked up a candle, this one was a crisp blue and held so her long index finger rested up the length of the slender taper, so the tip of her digit touched the tip of the candle. There the unnecessary wick slowly heated until finally catching, the flame small and dancing. She kept the candle upright, the wax at the top slowly melting and pooling with the help of her magic until it collected enough wax to be poured down. </p><p>As a precursor Fuku ran her free hand from their toes to their neck, hovering just above her lover’s body; close enough that her warmth was very noticeable if their lovely little noises were any indication, but far enough back to not pack a punch. That would be coming soon. </p><p>Fuku used her magic to heat the candle, swimming with soft intent. Intent to warm, intent to cherish,<i>to pleasure,</i> and tipped the first candle over her lover’s thigh. They squirmed and gasped, their cries muffled by the tape, and Fuku tried to commit that sound to memory; to hide away in her mind only to pull it back out and dust it off whenever she needed a pick me up. </p><p>The first large blob of wax rolled down their leg before cooling only when Fuku took a step back, into a firmer line of wax. After a moment she carefully rewarmed and scraped it away with the tip of her finger. Fuku wanted to see the state of their skin and asses if that was a good temperature; the night would be ruined if it ended in scalded flesh after all. </p><p>Once Fuku was satisfied that their skin wasn't burned, she began to massage their thigh as if to ask for permission to continue. They didn’t respond, couldn’t, but somehow they knew that Fuku was asking and nodded their head to signal a willingness to continue. </p><p>And so it began. </p><p>A wide ring of blacks and greys and dark blues and purples dripped on the outskirts of their body, creating a circular frame for the picture’s centerpiece. The most sensitive places Fuku found, like their wrists, neck and the sides of their legs drew loud, muffled cries and left their breathing ragged. It took so much resistance for Fuku to not heat up her hand and touch their skin directly, pulling more of these sinfully sweet sounds. Especially when she moved to the focal, more central part of the picture.</p><p>The rest of their body, their chest, stomach and pubic mound was coated in bright yellows and oranges, with softs pinks and purples accentuating what was meant to look like a glimpse at the bright sunny surface from the mouth of the mountain that Fuku walked through not all that long ago. </p><p>Her partner was squirming throughout the whole process but clearly was trying their best to hold still. While the wax hadn’t yet cooled thanks to the proximity of Fuku with her fiery arousal keeping the room toasty, they didn’t want to risk destroying her handiwork until it was over. </p><p>Fuku stayed focused on keeping the temperature of the candles just right and eliciting more beautiful responses from her partner. She wondered how good it felt when you couldn't anticipate when the next drop was coming. </p><p>Couldn’t see the candles, couldn't hear the footsteps…</p><p>Fuku had left their face untouched and with a sigh leaned down to steal a kiss against the tape. It wasn't quite the same, but it was something. She wanted to let them know just how into this she was, how aroused she was. How in love she was. They couldn’t kiss back but did lean into her touch. Around them, the walls of the dim room brightened with erratic dancing shadows cast from Fuku’s body as the smoke grew thicker. It looked like some magnificant dark ritual.</p><p>With a heavy sigh, Fuku set again to raining down hot wax and creating the image of the very first sunset she saw on the surface, leaving her old home and stagnant prison behind, to a life of light and love and apparently, amazing sex.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>A huge thanks to Becka for suggesting a character I never would have thought of. </p><p>And a grand old thank you to anyone who took the time to read this!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. (Underfell Grillby) Cool Your Fire</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Day 7: Breeding |  Rimming<br/>Themes: Doggie-style  | Dirty talk | M/F<br/>Pairing: (Underfell!Grillby) / Reader<br/>Warnings: unrealistic portrayal of sexual activity. Trophy-partner treatment (don’t put up with that shit in real life.)</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Prey. That was the best word to describe how you were feeling and your fight or flight response was on a hairpin trigger right now. You had only just stepped inside; you could feasibly turn back around and throw yourself out of his condo and make for the hills. But then, you already knew something was off on your way over and it would be a waste to leave without finding out what was going on. He sounded different on the phone when he called, barking orders for you to come over straight away and growling when you hung up. His normally silky and methodical voice was terse and rough. </p><p>And now that you were here everything was worse. Way worse. His breathing was labored, and his body was crouched down like some animal positioning itself to pounce.  The deep purple of his flames glowing brilliantly even in the bright light of day and his piercing bright eyes bore right into yours. It made your breath catch and your hair stand on end. </p><p>Maybe he’s in heat, you thought wrily. A terrible joke regarding a fire monster and you kept it to yourself; you knew where Blaze stood with his hatred of puns, having put up with them from his regular patrons over the many years. </p><p>Blaze reached a hand out to your face and for a moment you thought he was mad at the state of your appearance. You had no makeup on and wore only casual clothes. When you tried to explain on the phone that you needed time to prepare it sounded like he began whining on the other end before cursing at you to come over NOW, regardless of all that. </p><p>And it might have been your imagination but you think you also heard the faint whisper of one of his taboo words; <i>please.</i></p><p>When he made contact with your cheek he simply closed his eyes and relished in the touch before digging his fingertips in and leaning into your neck, inhaling deeply. </p><p>You froze, unsure how to progress. He was edging on borderline affectionate and that meant something was wrong. </p><p>Blaze never doted on you, (at least not in private), and cherish was a word he’d use to describe something that looked like it could be sat on, not used in the context of any real feelings towards you. You’d dare say the man has never <i>loved</i>, at least not traditionally. He enjoyed your company and your body but strictly in a physical sense. If he loved anything about you it was the idea of what you represented. </p><p>A pretty little human mate to flaunt to about like you were proof of some sort of high fluting status. He called you his Ember and that was as sentimental as things got. </p><p>You told him you loved him once. Only not really. Not as some grandiose confession that came from the soul, but more of a cultural byproduct of situational obligations and post orgasm sweet nothings. </p><p>He simply smirked that crooked, toothy smile of his and said in the most pompous voice. “I know.”</p><p>If anything could be called “fair” about what you had it was that Blaze never demanded your affection either; only your time and body. On his terms of course, with an underlying, understood hidden clause that the <i>time</i> you spent together was never to be shared in any sort of likeness in any way with another person.</p><p>
  <i>OR ELSE.</i>
</p><p>Yes, you’d be a fool to think that he loved you.</p><p>And you’d be an even bigger fool to think his jealousy and possessive tendencies were anything other than a forced habit from his time spent Underground</p><p>When you were out together in public he had you doll yourself up like some high society elite even though it was a lie. He bought you jewelry to match his; gaudy and excessive. Picked out nice outfits with instructions on what gala’s they’d be worn at, and bought you perfumes with names you couldn't even pronounce. He’d show you off to colleagues and strangers, big wigs who ran casinos and banks, like your presence was proof of his elevated new position in life. His rise to the top. </p><p>Where the rest of the scum sat in your quiet opinion.</p><p>It wouldn’t do to pick fights and any anger you harbored had a tendency to dissipate just as quickly as it came. Like a fire burning so bright, it eats up all the oxygen in the room until there is nothing left but hot air and smoke.  </p><p>Outside high-class functions, Blaze cared little how you went about your life. He never asked about your hobbies outside of what they were that one time over wine. He never inquired about your grades or how classes went after learning you were a student years ago. He asked about your family as a formality once and never spoke of them again. </p><p>He didn’t care if you fucked someone else because he loved you; he cared because it would make him look pathetic. Like he couldn’t keep his possessions under this thumb.</p><p>And by some cruel twist of the cosmos, that was exactly where you wanted to be. You were crazy about this right bastard of a man and you didn’t know why. </p><p>Your ‘lovemaking’ was eager but never cheapened with dirty talk or excessive noises. In a previous encounter, you once referred to yourself as his whore while trying to be sexy. He came to a dead stop and told you off. “I do not fuck whores,” he proclaimed. Internally you rolled your eyes but you apologized nonetheless before continuing to bob on his cock like he wasn’t going to send you on your way with wrinkles in your dress and some money in hand for cab fare…</p><p>Sex was lavish, poised with mirrors everywhere so he could watch and admire himself. It was slow and calculated; your orgasms always came first if not rarely together. There was zero chance of him putting in the effort after the sensuous show that was the illustrious Blaze coming. </p><p>The most authentic part of your relationship was you both wanting to get off. And after the pleasure, it was all business. </p><p>But right now that greedy, narcissistic, predictable man was a stranger before you, traded in for this desperate, hulking figure. Everything about him was eager in a way you've never seen.</p><p>The way he tugged off your clothes. <i>Always a chore, a job meant for you.</i> </p><p>The way he frantically tied up your hair. <i>Keep your hair back dammit, I didn’t ask to have curtains included.</i>  </p><p>And now the way he turned you around and pressed you hard against the door before dropping to his knees and for the first time ever began eating you out. </p><p>“Oh, oh…  oh fuck, Blaze yes,” you gasped widening your stance and bracing yourself against the door, lest you fall over or melt. One was more likely than the other but you couldn't work out which one it was. </p><p>Blaze happily received oral but never gave. Too hard to look in the mirror with your face buried between someone’s legs, you presumed. The attention was amazing, showing off skills you never knew he had. The feeling of his cool tongue easily sliding between your labia, from the clit all the way to the tight pucker of your backside. His fingers rubbed circles in the meat of your thighs, rising up to massage your ass before running them back down to your calves. </p><p>To most, it came as a surprise that his body was as cold as the deep purple hue of the flames themselves. To shake his hand revealed an icy grip that he loved to let linger a tad too long, to the discomfort of others.</p><p>Your normally tight-lipped partner was moaning with enough fanfare that your ass may have well-been royalty and he was reaming into it like it was his day job. Sensitivity was beginning to build against your flesh, and you tried to stand up on your tippy-toes to give your body some reprieve from the cold of his tongue but Blaze ran a hand through your pubic hair and tugged you back against his eager mouth, growling as he pulled you down. </p><p>“Ok fine. Message received,” you trilled as a chill ran down your spine making your body shudder. Normally your fucking was in bed with the heat cranked and a fuzzy blanket around you. </p><p>Blaze seemed to catch on to your discomfort when your teeth started chattering and reluctantly began standing up while placing kisses along your back all the way to the top of your head. In one fell swoop, you were hoisted up and over his shoulder as he walked away from the door. </p><p>The unexpected motion left your head spinning, like the feeling you get right after a somersault, and when he started to set you down you fully expect your landing to be in his bed but he only got so far as the livingroom's chaise lounge before setting you down and bending you over the back of it. It was painfully obvious what was coming next but you were more than primed for it; a clever tongue had seen to that. But it still came out of left field; this brand new side of Blaze left your head reeling and your body tingling. Your back prickled with goosebumps as he leaned down on you and widened his stance, lining up his cock to your now soaked pussy.</p><p>“What the hell haa–” you cried as Blaze pushed to the hilt inside, “has gotten into you?”</p><p>“It– it’s not about. What’s gotten. Into me you little bitch,” he said between thrusts, the raw sugar of his voice warming you up in a place he couldn’t touch. “It’s about what’s going into you. Mmm... you look ravishing today. Perfect for breeding.” </p><p>“Blaze what the actual fuc–” </p><p>Blaze moved his hands to your chest and dug into your flesh while squeezing you closer to his body, cutting you off. Your ‘what the actual fuck’ turned into a breathy ‘fuck me,’ as he tweaked and pulled at your nipples.  </p><p>“You’re going to take everything I have to give you, and I won’t hear one word of complaint. ” </p><p>Breeding? Seriously? As if you'd ever want to have children with this asshole. But that wasn't the issue here, it was…</p><p>Actually, you didn’t know what the issue was. It was all fake. You couldn’t even have children together. So in the end the prognosis was ‘screw it.’ If Blaze wanted to live his best ‘imma put a child in you' life right now, who were you to deny him?</p><p>Which is precisely why you bucked your hips in tandem with his and moved your head as far to the side as you could, allowing him access to your neck that he took within seconds. The chill of his mouth instantly soothed away the pain of any bruises he made while sucking and biting your flesh. </p><p>Tentatively you offered him some light praise while reaching one hand back to let your fingers dance in the wisps of flames on his head. “Mm it’s so good. I love what you’re doing to me.”</p><p>The reaction was positive, you think. He only squeezed you harder and growled loudly into your neck. It was certainly better than the typical ‘I’m not stupid. I know I’m good. Now quiet, talk is cheap,’ you were used to. </p><p>You didn’t really want to test out the whore thing again, but you could work with bitch. Hell, you WANTED to work with it. </p><p>"Yes. Yes <i>please</i> Blaze. Breed me like the bitch I am.”</p><p>His response was visceral. There was no higher power functioning here, only instinct. And the way he screamed your name, it was unrecognizable to your ears. </p><p>His pace only faltered long enough for the time it took to spin you around and lift you in his arms so he could move to fuck you against the wall. The sudden change in temperature made it feel almost warm on your back. Your legs were splayed above his hips and you wrapped them around him for stability against his relentless thrusts into your swollen sex. He seemed to need nothing from you so let yourself revel in this needy, desperate experience.</p><p>The hot white of his eyes stayed focused on you the entire time you faced him. There was even a perfectly good mirror against the adjacent wall and not once did he look away; his eyes were fixated either on yours or the bounce of your chest.</p><p>You noticed the bright pink hue that began to snake its way through his body towards the top of his head; a sure sign that he was close and at this pace, you weren’t at all surprised. Blaze normally treated sex like a combination of a marathon and a high tea party. </p><p>This was more like a 50-yard dash and a mosh pit.</p><p>“My perfect little mate. I won’t stop until you’re full to bursting with my seed. Nnn– so hot. Your cunt is so hot and tight. Ahh! You’ll give me as many children as I want. And I want to see your body change and your belly swell. With. Each. <i>One."</i> </p><p>Blaze’s mouth pressed into a tight scowl, his body rocking with the first waves of his orgasm as he continued to buck his hips. You leaned forward and kissed him but he didn’t have the wherewithal to return it. His cries started out low, growing loud and desperate before dying into soft, weak whimpers as he slowly came down from his climax. </p><p>He looked about ready to slump you both down on the floor but managed the strength to lift you slightly higher while he pulled out, groaning at the loss of contact. </p><p>The autopilot he now ran on brought you both to his bedroom where cocooned he you in a blanket, separating the chill of his body from yours before pulling you in close. If you had to guess there would be no hasty cab fare offered today. </p><p>Blaze groaned something unintelligible against your back, muffled by the blankets.</p><p>“What was that?”</p><p>He yawned and murmured again into your back. This time you made out his faint, drowsy words.  </p><p>“I love you.”</p><p>What you said next was a lie, but it didn’t stop you from rolling your eyes and mockingly whispering, “I know.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Two fire monsters in a row? Help I’m in a server with unique individuals forcing me to think outside the box and I can’t get up!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. (Green) C2952 H4664 O832 N812 S8 Fe4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Day 8: Menophilia | Bukkake<br/>Themes: Fingering | Oral Sex | Drinking | There are so many hands | M/F<br/>Pairing: (Echotale!Papyrus) / Reader<br/>Warnings: Unrealistic portrayal of sexual activity</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Here, have some court drama with your smut because I can’t figure out how “just banging” works</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The morning came as it’s wont to do, all too soon and with a hodgepodge of hazy memories, dull aches, and growing nausea. With a groan, you turned away from the heat source by your side and carefully kicked the covers off your legs. Your mouth felt fuzzy like it hadn’t been brushed in years and there was a deep ache spreading through your abdomen.</p><p>Perhaps pain was your body’s way of punishing you for the neglect it received last night. You had been drinking. </p><p>Back up. </p><p>You had been <i>celebrating</i>, there’s a very important difference here. And G had been relentless in his insistence that you three had to overindulge in everything. If anyone set the tone for last night’s Bacchanalia it was him. And if anyone should have known better it was...<i>also</i> him…</p><p>And besides, drinking without reason is as sad as a half thawed tv dinner and double stuffed oreos for breakfast. Drinking in celebration is dignified and cool;  just like your partner Green.</p><p>The thought of the man of the hour had you looking to the side, your neck straining in the process from sleeping on it funny to check on him. He seemed out cold but that could change at any second. He was the textbook definition of a morning person and right now it felt very late in the day. There was no way his body wouldn’t be clawing its way tooth and nail to wake up ASAP. </p><p>His brother would never let him live it down if he slept until noon working off a hangover. Would probably say some shit like ‘he was finally proud of the man he’d become.’ Or less inventive, ‘welcome to the dark side.’ It was an unheard-of spectacle for sure, and Green was never one to flavour victories with libations. He was the voice of restraint and reason. His doses of wisdom always meant to be taken with a large glass of water and food. Preferably at the start of the day and only in moderation, of course. </p><p>But last night had been one of those rare occasions where Green told all sense and sensibilities  to take a hike and splurged on several bottles of what his brother had called “the good stuff.” Green had poured years of research into soul therapy and the effects of monster magic on human souls. It was how you two met in fact when you signed up to be part of the case study all those years ago.</p><p>And now now not only was his thesis quasi-recently published and always worth celebrating, but his findings were used in a massive, high profile public court case to help garner a monster’s freedom. The man was on trial after using magic on a human’s soul to pull them free from the wreckage of a car and resuscitate them when they appeared nonresponsive. From that moment on it was all anyone was talking about.  </p><p>The backlash for his actions was enormous and many humans demanded retribution against the monster who not only broke the law in doing so but who, without consent, “violated the sacredness that was a human’s soul.” It was largely an extremist religious sentiment that was causing an uproar and every court hearing brought out the picketers in spades armed with coroplast signs in their hands and hatred in their hearts. It was some really backward Westboro baptists type shit. The signs read things like Keep your magic out of our bodies. My soul is a temple. No consent = no freedom.  </p><p>To make the whole thing even more absurd, the poor monster on trial had the likeness of a humanoid, red-furred Nubian Ibex; apparently not a good look to have when you're kneeling in the streets over a human body. This world was full of people judging books not even by their covers, but by their cantankerous reviews on Goodreads.  </p><p>The defense lawyer had her work cut out for her and she heavily relied on Green’s findings, pulling case studies and quotes directly from the secretive and selective human tests that had been conducted. The arduous trial dragged on for the better part of a year and in the end, a new legal precedent regarding cases where a monster using magic on humans in emergencies had been set. It was the first time you had seen both G and Green cry at the same time, and it was truly a victory for monsters everywhere. </p><p>You had called it the newest Roe vs Wade. </p><p>G called it the dawn of a new era.</p><p>Green told you both to shush up and stop being delusional.</p><p>Either way, the cheers rang out, the music played, and the alcohol flowed throughout the evening. You knew Green was <i>done</i>, we’re talking outta the oven and fork-tender when his ever soft voice transformed into his outdoor voice without him even noticing. </p><p>FRIENDS! FAMILY! THAT MAN I CALL MY BROTHER. LET US RAISE OUR GLASSES AND TOAST TO AN INNOCENT MAN’S FREEDOM! FOR HE WILL NOT BE THE LAST, AND WE MUST REMAIN STRONG IN TIMES OF DIVISION SO UNITY WILL WIN OUT IN THE END. I’M JUST SO HAPPY. IT- IT FEELS,” Green hiccuped into the back of his hand before continuing.  “OH DEAR EXCUSE ME. IT FEELS AS IF MY SOUL WILL BURST WITH JOY THAT I COULD HELP IN SOME SMALL WAY, AND I CAN NOW SAY FOR THE FIRST TIME EVER THAT SCIENCE HAS SAVED LIVES.”</p><p>“Science’s been savin’ lives for years, bro,” G interrupted to your dismay. </p><p>“Quiet Genie,” you scolded while trying to keep the camera on your phone steady, the space in its storage slowly dwindling away with the spectacle of Green’s speech. “Can’t you see he’s monologuing?”</p><p>At some point in the night, G’s playlist came to an end and was replaced with an upbeat jazzy instrumental song that filled the room. Green took a hold of your hand and pulled you into the living room. He spun you around as you smiled and laughed easily with him. Your height difference made dancing tricky but neither of you cared. While you danced G lazily began blowing smoke rings in the air from the sofa, knowing this was likely to be the first and last time he'd get away with smoking inside. </p><p>That was the last thing you remembered, which brought you to this morning. With one of the worst hangovers you’ve had in years, lying beside a softly groaning Green who was now awake and following suit to kick off the blankets.</p><p>“Good morning,” you rasped out, throat feeling parched. </p><p>“Is it?”</p><p>Well, that’s a loaded question, you thought. “I suppose it’s a matter of perspective. I think any morning I wake up to your smiling face is a good morning.”</p><p>Green sighed before beginning to rise out of bed. “No. I meant is it <i>morning</i>?”</p><p>“Oh,” you replied lamely, punctuating it with all the sounds of the vowels in ‘I don’t know” just mangled together as one word. </p><p>Once out of bed Green appeared to be looking around for his cell phone before settling on tapping firmly on his keyboard to wake up his computer and check the time there. “Thank goodness,” he huffed quietly while moving toward the bedroom window. “It’s not even eleven yet.” The blackout curtains were haphazardly thrown open and you shielded your eyes with a yelp at the intrusive sunlight offering you some much-needed vitamin D and pain. </p><p>“Sorry for any discomfort but the day waits for no one. I’ll be back in a few minutes with something for your head.”</p><p>“My head, what about yours tough guy? I saw you pull out the baking amaretto when you thought no one was looking.”</p><p>“Lies and slander; and from the mouth of a drunkard no less. I’m sorry my dear but I’m afraid such accusations will never hold water.” He disappeared out the door before your banter could continue leaving you to gaze at the ceiling and contemplate why your body hurt so much. Perhaps you’d taken a tumble in the night?</p><p>When Green came back it was with a food tray’s worth of goodies; tall glasses of water, two mugs of something steaming, toast with a small pat of butter, and a white plastic bottle. You took the water from the tray with some words of thanks before gratefully drinking half of it back.</p><p>You had a nagging suspicion what was in the cuppa if Green’s tight grimace as he sipped his own was any indication and you were far less thankful for that. Even if it did work like a damn Sea Tea tasted like licking the underside of a mermaid's tail.</p><p>At one point Green pulled the glass of water from your grabby hands and told you to start drinking your tea. “You’ll be grateful for the water after, now bottoms up while it’s still warm.”</p><p>With a healthy dose of angry side-eye you sucked it back as quickly as you could before cramming a triangle of toast in your mouth, thankful for the abrupt change of flavour. Green started a casual conversation while you ate. “It seems we crashed unexpectedly hard last night and I didn’t get to partake in what I was looking forward to the most. Now,” Green grabbed the small bottle and gave it a shake, it’s hard contents rattling inside. “Take two and I’ll see what I can do about helping you with any cramping you may be experiencing. </p><p>“Cramping,” you asked, reaching for the bottle in the tray. “Why would I–” The label declared the contents as ibuprofen. At that moment the situation snapped into place and the discomfort you were feeling in your lower body made perfect, unfortunate sense. You were on your period. It was just a tad later than usual and with all the chaos and stress watching the court case unfold you forgot all about it. </p><p>With renewed energy, you jumped from the bed and inspected the sheets for any damages done. The thought process went like this: you screaming internally because Jesus fucking christ there is red EVERYWHERE, to wait a minute, it’s literally everywhere, to oh these are red sheets. The only saving grace was that you didn’t vocalize any of that. But then a question came to mind as you hurried to the ensuite bathroom to do some damage control.</p><p>“How do you know I’m on my period?” You asked while tossing your undies in the sink before sitting on the toilet. There wasn’t much blood on them but they didn’t come out completely unscathed.</p><p>“Because you’ve complained about your cramps on many occasions and it’s always the same week of each month.” Green’s tone tipped you off that he found the question very amusing. “Come now, you don't need a medical degree to figure that one out.”</p><p>You only grunted in response at the sudden candid menstruation conversation... situation. Other words that rhyme with ‘ation’. Coagulation? Nope, too on the nose at the moment. Gross gross gross you scolded yourself. </p><p>When Green walked into the bathroom he had with him your glass of water and the pills which he set down by the sink. “I’m serious though, take them and we can continue on. Ibuprofen is an excellent way to block some side effects of prostaglandins and will help aid in comfort and recovery.” What Green said next when he looked in the sink made your skin heat up. And not in a good way. “Do you want me to begin soaking those for you?”</p><p>With all the current blood wiped away, you hopped up and flushed the toilet before scurrying to the sink to wash your hands and gently nudging him out of the bathroom. “Seriously Green, that’s not the kind of thing you ask you to do for your partner!”</p><p>“...well I believe I just did.”</p><p>“Yeah,” you countered, thrown off by his nonchalance. “But. You don’t <i>need</i> to. I can take care of my, you know. Period stuff myself.”</p><p>“Alright, I’ll leave you to that. Come to bed once you’re ready.”</p><p>“Ready for what?” you asked while wringing out the fabric under the running faucet and watching the pooled water turn red. Ug, why today?</p><p>“For the extra <i>special</i> celebration we missed out on last night.”</p><p>You ignored the way he said the word special and rinsed your hands and turned off the water; content to let the underwear soak for now. When you exited the bathroom Green was sitting on the bed and looking at you with half-lidded bedroom eyes. As if you hadn't just been wringing out your dirty panties in his sink not three seconds ago. You pulled open the drawer that held some of your belongings before grabbing a pair of underwear with a thick sewn-in fabric pad. </p><p>“Those won't be necessary,” he piped up as you began to slip them on. </p><p>“Uh, I’m pretty sure they will be. You're lucky I didn’t bleed on your sheets. I forgot all about my period. And I think I know what you’re implying, but we can’t have sex right now.”</p><p>The wheels were visibly turning in his head, his eye lights doing that thing where they slowly circle from the left up and all the way down to the right, and the time in between is spent solving some conundrum. </p><p>“May I ask you why?”</p><p>You looked at him in annoyance. “You <i>know</i> why!”</p><p>“Of course I don’t,” he said, his tone not the least bit argumentative. “That’s why I am asking.”</p><p>“We can't have sex for the same reason why you brought me up a bottle of ibuprofen.”</p><p>Green cocked one brow bone and leaned back onto the palms of his hands. “Because I care about and want to make you feel better?”</p><p>You stuttered in annoyance before finding the right words. Sort of. “Because it would be gross for you. You know it’s… I mean, you are… Period sex is.” You took a deep breath before trying again. “I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.” </p><p>Green’s previously lecherous smile softened as he held out a hand to you, inviting you to sit beside him on the mattress. “Do you think <i>I’m</i> squeamish about sex while you’re menstruating, or are you being squeamish on my behalf?”</p><p>“I–”</p><p>“Because,” he interjected, “I can’t recall a time where I have ever done or said anything to make you feel that way.” </p><p>“OK sure. But you also haven’t said otherwise.’</p><p>That made Green pause for a moment as he contemplated your words. “True enough, but I believe that has more to do with the fact that we only somewhat recently expanded our relationship to be romantic in nature and not simply platonic. And even newer still was deciding we were both looking for intimacy with each other. It just so happens that this is the first time this topic has come up.”</p><p>Green shuffled closer to you on the bed and wrapped his arm around your shoulder and gave your head a soft stroke. “You seem stressed. May I?” he asked before continuing when you nodded. "Now if your last word on the matter is final I certainly won’t press you to do something you're uncomfortable with, but if you'll allow, I’d like the chance to assuage what might be some of your fears regarding all this.”</p><p>The head rubs were heavenly and at some point, Green had begun to message both your shoulders in tandem with the head strokes. Mentally you were off-put by the frank conversation but physically you were at ease; a stark difference from the way your body was feeling a mere half hour ago. His thumb had found a particularly tense knot that made you suck air through your teeth as he rubbed it out while he gently cupped your chin and turned you to face him. His hands continued working away as you felt a new pressure on your thigh that was him giving you a reassuring squeeze. </p><p>The many perks to having the ability to summon multiple, magical hands.</p><p>“Alright, I’ll hear you out.”</p><p>“Let’s start with the obvious thing. I am not a person who is phased by blood. Not in a medical sense and certainly not like some childish schoolboy who would tease and treat this like something that is gross or shameful.”</p><p>His words were reassuring, but you couldn't help but feel that the tone was oddly similar to the conversations your mother had with you when the worst of puberty had hit. </p><p>“I’m also not fond of the idea of intimacy being put on the back burner because you think I’d be put off by your menses.” </p><p>Fucking hell. Sexy hands. There were <i>super</i> sexy hands all over you. But these were very unsexy words. Menses? Sounds like an ultra flamboyant way of saying 'men.'</p><p>“Any thoughts so far?”</p><p>“What about the mess?”</p><p>“Hmm?” Green looked at you like he needed you to elaborate more, but you simply returned the stare. You had asked <i>him</i> a question after all. “It’s no coincidence that I’ve put red sheets on the bed. This wasn’t coming as a surprise to me. And a towel is a very easy thing to procure if the need arises. We can even lay one first down if that would make you feel more at ease. And afterward, I have a shower a scant 12 feet away. With hot water even.”</p><p>Ok, sarcastic Green was not a fun Green. </p><p>“So you’re fine potentially getting blood on your sheets or your hands, or your..?” For whatever reason, the word escaped you as you looked down at the bugle already straining against his loose, silky pajamas. </p><p>“Cock?” he offered while leaning closer and damn wasn’t that an odd word to hear from the mouth of Green, the epitome of a polite medical professional. “I’d like to share something personal. I find the thought of having sex with you, especially right now extremely appealing. There's a certain slipperiness to menstrual blood that feels amazing and I’ve always been particularly aroused by it.”</p><p>“No way. You're telling me the blood actually feels nice? I don’t believe you can tell the difference.”</p><p>“I am being perfectly sincere here. It makes for a fantastic sort of friction and when you get the stringy bits of blood clots that stick to you it feels divine and I swear that I can feel the difference. Sex is wonderful at the best of times, but it’s completely elevated when that partner is menstruating.”</p><p>This whole conversion was objectively hot and you indeed were feeling the initial pings of arousal, but there was still this nagging voice in your head that was telling you to wallow in some sort of shame. “So what, you're saying is this is your kink?”</p><p>He simply shrugged. “If calling it that helps, then yes. So what do you say, my dear? I’m clearly worked up at the thought of having you, all of your right now. That’s plain to see. If your reservations are because you think I won’t enjoy myself <i>please</i> think again. But if you’ve decided it still makes you uncomfortable I promise it will stop here and now and I will not press any further.” </p><p>You contemplated his words, the blood (heh) rushing to your face as the hands that were originally soothing you began to caress and hold you in a more sultry way; wrapping carefully in your hair, scratching lightly down your back, and wandering slowly up your thigh. </p><p>You started to wonder when your aversion to sex while you were bleeding began. You never really cared initially, and somewhere along the way you grew embarrassed of what your partners would think, and that melded itself into an additional serving of a twisted secondhand embarrassment. It certainly wasn’t fair to project that onto Green and you found yourself standing up from the bed. His busy hands immediately pulled away from you, already offering space in case you wanted it. </p><p>“I say,” you began, slowly shimming your hips until your bulky underwear that the floor, “you should probably go and grab a towel. </p><p>Green didn’t need to be told twice, and you watched him blink hard once, a tell that he was summoning a magic hand to complete the task. Green reluctantly looked away from you when he pulled the blankets off the bed and waited for the towel, laying it down once it arrived.</p><p>As green prepped the bed, two hands tugged at the hem of your nightgown, a request for you to lift your arms and you obeyed, stepping forward as the fabric was pulled from your head. Another step and you were pressed up behind Green, your hands plucking at the hem of his silky pajamas. He hummed in appreciation as one hand rubbed his iliac crest outside the silky material which provided synthetic friction while the other wrapped around him to dip in the front of his pants and began stroking his twitching cock.</p><p>He rocked on his feet slightly at the contact but made no move to stop you while he pulled off his silky matching shirt and tossed it aside. After a glorious minute, Green was sighing with each stroke and abruptly moved away from your touch as if to break some wicked spell you were weaving. With a shaky hand he motioned to the bed.</p><p>“Eager are we?” You asked while dutifully crawling on to the bed, centering yourself on the provided towel. </p><p>“I happen to be of the mindset that ‘eager’ is one of my greatest characteristics,” Green waxed poetically. </p><p>“You can’t spell Green without… most of the letters in eager…” you offered very <i>un</i>poetically. “Yes please ignore anything else I say today. It must be from all the blood loss.” </p><p>Green laughed, whispering that there was the much needed ‘n’ in the word <i>eagerness</i> before he settled himself at the foot of the bed to straddle your legs. Two of the previous summoned hands were slowly running down the sides of your face, all the way to your shoulders before making the journey back up. The other two traced feather-light strokes across your stomach that were just barely hard enough to not be ticklish.</p><p>With as much care and tenderness as Green puts into anything, which is to say a fuck-ton, he began to kiss your legs, hopping back and forth from left to right, all the while slowly making his way up.</p><p>Once over your shins, another hand was created, rubbing a slender finger across your lips.</p><p>Up to your knees, two hands found their way into yours, fingers entwined and returning each one of your tight squeezes. </p><p>Past your thighs, and that’s when Green settled his first two fingers inside of you, slowly and carefully while nuzzling his cheek into the meat of your thigh. You quietly gasped at the welcome intrusion and attempted to part your legs further within the confines of his body. Green took this as a, heh, green light and sped up the motion, </p><p>It didn’t take long before he was glistening, the top of his skull covered in a sheen that reached all the way to his toes. The way you understood it, Green had such a high excess of magic that it had a tendency to pour from his body like sweat in certain situations, casting a slick residue over his body and even from his hand constructs. </p><p>It was a nifty side effect, all things considered. Green was such a gentleman that there was always a bottle of regular water-based lube at the ready, but it was never needed. Not with the way his summoned hands gave off that same magical surplus that thickened and dripped down over time. If you were dehydrated or just needed more time to get wet Green was happy to help out with an eager tongue or a slick magical hand.   </p><p>“Ah– fuck that’s,” you started to whine but a new hand hastily plunged two long fingers into your open mouth and stifled your words. </p><p>Something hot and wet joined Green’s clever fingers and you choked back another moan on the construct invading your mouth as what you were sure was his tongue circled your clit. After a moment he began to firmly press his teeth against you and nodded his head up and down against the swollen nub. </p><p>You freed your hands from the pair holding you and grabbed the back of his head to push him harder against your body. With the way he sped up his pace and moaned in response, you assumed he didn’t mind one bit. </p><p>You were trying to keep track just how many hands Green had summoned so far, the most he'd usually make being six. There was no way you were rocking any less than 10 and the number seemed to be growing. From your toes to your head his presence was everywhere, each hand buzzing with magic and fervid intent. The residue was getting noticeably thicker and had begun to drip off the hands and smear onto your body and face.</p><p>The first waves of your peak were crashing and you firmly held his head in place as the brunt of your orgasm threatened to overwhelm you. It was a familiar plea to stop moving and let you enjoy this in peace that Green happily obeyed. You couldn’t believe how close you had come to missing out on this opportunity and thanked whatever star above that your boyfriend was such a clever man.</p><p>Once your climax had ebbed away Green withdrew his hands and shimmied further up your body, nudging your legs apart before easily slipping himself inside. The morning sun was now pouring through the window and his bones looked stunning in the light and reflection of his slick body. He adjusted his stance and moved your body so your legs would hook over his shoulders. At least in spirit. His long torso, never mind legs put him quite a bit taller than you and your ankles rested against his collar bone. The moment your ass was even slightly exposed a group of hands made their way over to grope and knead at your soft flesh. </p><p>Unlike before, this new pace was slow and deep; more sensual than it had been with his mouth between your legs. Green’s eyes were closed in his own bliss and his mouth was slightly parted. You thought that he looked beautiful. </p><p>Apparently, you were both on the same wavelength. </p><p>“You’re so gorgeous, I could say it with each– ahh,” Green began to whisper, momentarily cutting off his thoughts while he settled your legs back down beside him and moved forward until your faces were mere inches apart. “Each breath I take and that wouldn’t possibly be enough. You feel so good, so stars damned good!”  </p><p>You wrapped your arms around his ribs, letting your fingers softly caress his spine, just content to hold him and he bucked his hips with a quickening pace.</p><p>“Did,” Green sighed, “did I ever tell you, my dear, why I turned down your application to be in my clinical trial?”</p><p>Now there was a blast from the past. For most of your adult life, you had signed up to be a part of random research groups for the city’s University. It was an easy way to make extra money and get some fascinating in-depth medical knowledge about yourself. This one time you participated in a sleep study and that was how you learned you had severe sleep apnea and needed jaw surgery to fix it. In fact, it was your positive history with numerous University clinical trials that allowed you to be one of the few humans informed about the soul study and allowed an interview to join it. </p><p>The prospect was thrilling but you didn’t even make it through to the end of the interview before the Doctor running the experiment, a tall, striking skeleton monster, gave you a genuinely soft smile and informed you that unfortunately, you were not a match for the study. Your disappointment was palpable, and you had left wondering if you had done something wrong. Then, as luck would have it, you ran into Doctor Green later that very month who struck up a friendly conversation with you and from that day forward you had become fast friends. And then eventually to what you are now.</p><p>A loud hiss from Green pulled back your focus to the present. “You said I wasn't a match.” His laugh was short and amused. </p><p>“I turned you down because I could tell just from one look that I was going to love you someday. That I would hold you in my arms on your bad days, and celebrate in your triumphs as you did with mine last night.” Green’s thrusting grew quicker still and the hands on your body began pinching, scratching, and caressing with more intensity. He was almost there. “I knew in my bones that I wanted you all to myself, and I wasn’t going to kill that spark I felt by letting you join the study. </p><p>You didn't respond, this new information left your head reeling. </p><p>“So I let you go and eventually my patience paid off because now I’m free to run whatever little tests I want when I want. On your body <i>or</i> your beautiful soul.” </p><p>You long since gave up on keeping count of how many hands he summoned; the slippery friction between them and your body made it hard to tell how many there really were. As Green’s breathing began to catch the hands that were cradling your face, tugging gently at your hair and hooking their fingers into your mouth suddenly moved away as Green abruptly pulled out of you, leaning forward and taking himself in one hand, crying out as thick spurts of his come landed on your face. It coalesced with the magic that was dripping from his hands and with the sheer quantity there was now a noticeable green tinge on your face.</p><p>After a moment the hands began to dissipate, leaving your body one by one once their magic was spent. He rested down on his elbows to keep his bloody fingers off of you. Your body was slick with magic and sweat and blood as you leaned forward, silently asking for a kiss that he softy returned. When he pulled back some of his magic was smeared around his mouth. You’ve always thought he looked sexy, handsome, the picture-perfect gentleman, but now with green on his face and red on his hands, he looked like sin. </p><p>“I think we need that shower now,” you said with a shaky breath while trying to wipe some of the magic from your coated eyelids.</p><p>“In due time my dear. I’m still enjoying the view.”</p><p>“Fair enough. We’re almost done here. Enjoy it while it lasts I suppose.” </p><p>On the contrary, I believe I’m in for the best four to seven days of my life.” Green chuckled and nuzzled your forehead. “At least for this month.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Your phone buzzed and you moved over enough so you could grab it from where it ended up under the bed. Green had protested as you moved about but was now distractedly licking at the curve of your ear tracing a line all the way down your neck and back up again. </p><p>The message was from G who had sent a picture of the two of you dancing in the living room the night before; your hand held high above your head as a smiling Green spun you on your tippy-toes; the whole picture perfectly framed by a wispy grey ring of smoke.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. (Stretch) What's Mine is Yours</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Day 9: Pegging | Emetophilia<br/>Themes: Recreational drug use | Doggie-style | Dildos for days | Gender dysphoria<br/>Pairing: (Underswap!Papyrus) / Reader<br/>Warnings: Unrealistic portrayal of sexual activity</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Getting high in Stretch’s basement while cuddling on the chesterfield was the life. His brother would be out of town for a while and Stretch took every opportunity to break all the rules of the house. It started with feet on the table and drinking straight from the carton but quickly devolved into sleeping until 2 pm and hotboxing the entertainment room. Not that you cared. Not your house, not your problem.  </p><p>Stretch reached down to offer you up another hit of his blunt, ever the gentleman and from it you took a long drag before passing it back. Stretch got his weed from an old friend and as long as you were on his good side Top’s shit was just that; the tops. But you had a sneaking suspicion that this batch’s quality was crap; retribution for him swapping some of Tops' ‘monster tabs’, another type of drug, with Listerine breath strips. </p><p>Granted, even weak weed would get you there if you smoked enough of it and the two of you had been binging all day.</p><p>Again he reached down but this time with nothing hand, and instead stuck his hand down the front of your shirt. You tilted your head back to glare but he just turned to the side to cough away from your face. You were nestled so close between his legs that freeing an elbow to give him a jab wasn’t easy and before any physical retribution was enacted, Stretch pulled a cheezie from under your shirt, the crunch of his munching came shortly after. </p><p>“Gross,” you mumbled. </p><p>“me or you?”</p><p>“You, obviously.” </p><p>Stretch scoffed, “ok, cheese tits.”</p><p>“Chest,” you corrected with a sudden annoyance.</p><p>“wuh? ok cheese chest it is.“</p><p>You ignored the sudden feel of his magic solidifying against your back, content to just pay it no mind and watch the movie but not before you shot him scowl over your shoulder. </p><p>“what? cheezie notwithstanding, touching your tits was nice. whataya want from me?”</p><p>“<i>Chest</i>,” you said again, this time with a bit more force. “And another hit of that is what I want from you.”</p><p>Though Stretch was confused by your blossoming annoyance he happily obliged, passing the joint your way. As the movie dragged on his boner was persistent, occasionally pulsing as you watched but because he wasn’t actively grinding into your back he got a pass. </p><p>“Is it weird?”</p><p>“is what weird?”</p><p>“Having a boner while Jason Voorhees murders people?'</p><p>“nah, just a typical tuesday night for me.” </p><p>“But it’s Wednesday.”</p><p>“right. <i>hump</i> day,” Stretch informed. </p><p>Ah. And there was the grinding. It would seem being a gentleman lasted all but three minutes. Longer than he could typically last so, hooray for small miracles?</p><p>“Hey Stretch, what is it like having a dick?”</p><p>“mmm this shit is better than i thought. usually, tops gives me garbage when he’s mad at me.”</p><p>“It was a legitimate question Stretch.” </p><p>“kay. what’s it like having hair?”</p><p>“There is no way those two things are comparable.”</p><p>Stretch didn’t respond, he only tried to silence you by shoving the join into your mouth after maneuvering it towards your face like an airplane. </p><p>In vexation you lashed out and sniped it from his fingers, slightly burning yourself in your carelessness. “Ouch! Answer the question!”</p><p>“jesus. it’s fucking great. there ya happy?”</p><p>“No, I’m not,” you pouted. </p><p>Stretch exhaled a long and deep sigh, possibly trying to understand if your not being happy was relating to his answer about the dick, your burnt finger, or a deeper life thing that needed some actual soul to soul feely-bullshit.</p><p>As perusal, Stretch settled on the dick. </p><p>“sit up pumpkin.”</p><p>“Can’t. Too high.” </p><p>“come one, you’re not going far. just get up on your knees, this should be easy for you.” </p><p>After a moment you managed to drive your knee cap into this femur while trying to settle in on his lap. His wince was audible, as was his mumbled “I didn’t deserve that.” Stretch began to shimmy his shorts down his legs before he kicked them off the chesterfield. </p><p>“Seriously? Isn’t that a little presumptuo–!!” In an instant, he had pulled you down into his lap. Well, not quite. He pulled you further up so his dick stood at attention, perfectly snug against your crotch with only your underwear between you two. It took you a while, but once you got what he was doing you laughed out loud, and Stretch followed along. </p><p>It wasn’t perfect but the sentiment was nice. </p><p>“Fuck, my dick is huuuuge.” </p><p>“Why is this the first I’m hearing of it?”</p><p>Ignoring him, you closed your eyes and gave “your” cock a few clumsy strokes, moaning as if the pleasure was your own. Imagining how good your tight grip would feel, how sensitive the head grew as your thumb would spread the pre-come around, like a slippery lube.</p><p>Behind you, Stretch was quietly sighing but otherwise keeping his mouth shut while you sorted out whatever genital revelations were going on with your heart to heart moment with his dick.</p><p>It was a blessing, you facing away from Stretch since he could always spot your bullshit coming a mile away, even when he was baked out of this tree. This let you plan accordingly, but after a while, your head was spinning like a Michael Jordan ball trick and it was time to lay back down with some grace before your face got chummy with the floor. For all your care and consideration as you scooched off of him you still managed to elbow Stretch hard in the dick. His reaction was a lackluster ‘oof.’ </p><p>“Shit, sorry! Did.. did I hurt you?”</p><p>“i don’t know, i didn’t feel much honestly. i only reacted because it seemed like something i should do when i get elbowed in the dick,” he explained.</p><p>The two of you sat in quiet contemplation before agreeing that you had both had enough and needed a nap, food, and a shower. And not necessarily in that order.</p>
<hr/><p>Usually, your sober self disagrees with whatever plotting your past self brought to the table, but this was the one instance where you’d high-five them if you could. It wasn’t brilliant by any means, but its simplicity made the plan both affordable and achievable. Unlike your past half baked, (emphasis on the <i>baked</i>) scheme to start a food truck for the beach, but get this, it’s not a truck, it’s canoe so it can go out and sell swimmers food so they don’t have to leave the water… </p><p>The bit about inflatable utensil was the cherry on top of that tomfoolery.</p><p>This plan was both legit and super exciting and you eagerly counted down the days until all the pieces fell into place. </p><p>Browsing the internet and buying the dildos didn’t make it feel real. You’ve bought plenty of toys before and have amassed a nice collection. Almost every colour of the rainbow. </p><p>No, it was getting the strap-on harness fitted to your body that made it feel real. Made your skin tingle in excitement at turning the metaphorical tables of your lovemaking. </p><p>Stretch wasn’t fully in the loop the day you were enacting the plan, but he understood the gist of ‘sex on the dirty bathroom floor because he didn’t clean it like you had asked him to.’ You explained that he was to wait down in the kitchen and then go to the upstairs washroom in ten minutes, leaving his pants behind. </p><p>As soon as you got in you bent down in front of his bathtub and imagined where Stretch’s head would rest comfortably while he was on all fours. You mimicked the motions of sucking an invisible cock at different angles before stopping abruptly, realizing what massive fool you looked like. Quickly you chose a random spot and stuck the dildo to the tub. It made a satisfying ‘shlep’ sound.</p><p>Your clothes were shed and tossed in the corner and all that was left was to secure the second dildo in place before Stretch walked in. It fell out almost immediately, and you grimaced, tilting it a different way and reinserting it again. Even though it seems secure you were able to pull it out from the front with the gentlest of tugs. </p><p>“Oh no. No no no no!” the flared base of this particular dildo was a little on the smaller side, but it was still a flared base. It should stay, it was designed for use with a harness. Only the hole in yours was wider and it just slipped out no matter how much you tried to adjust where it sat.</p><p>Reluctantly you looked over to the dick standing at attention on the side of the tub. The ramrod straight shape was not what you wanted to use in the harness, but its wide base would ensure it stayed put. It just meant no fucking Stretch’s face into the side of the bathtub. A loss, but not a great one you tried to convince yourself. </p><p>“pumpkin, you’re making quiet sad noises and i know you have dildos in there so something doesn’t add up. are you reading sad cowboy porn again?”</p><p>You heard the door open but didn’t bother looking up. In your mind there was supposed to be a sexy reveal; the door would open to show off not one but two dicks. And the jet black harness fit like a dream and looked amazing strapped to your hips. Instead what he got when he opened the door was you sitting on the edge of the tub, the suction dildo still stuck firmly between your legs and the other one lying floppy in your hands. You looked like a kicked puppy. </p><p>Reluctantly you stood up when he didn’t say anything. “Look the whole plan was to fuck you while you choked down on this dildo, but this one,” you brandished the smaller of the two as it flopped to and fro, “doesn't fit and in typical me fashion I didn’t check to see if it fit beforehand nor did I prepare a backup. So the cock that you’re supposed to be sucking will be the one I use in the harness.”</p><p>Stretch remained quiet and in one stride of his long legs he was in the bathroom and in your space, slowly tracing his finger along the outside of the harness’s stitched hole. “it sounds like you really put some thought into this” </p><p>“Clearly not enough.”</p><p>“it would be a shame not to see this all the way through, and i’m more than eager to indulge you. so why don’t you use mine?”</p><p>“Your what? You have a spare toy?” you asked incredulously. </p><p>“no, <i>mine,</i>” he said again with a little more emphasis before he rubbed his pelvis into your side, his magic already starting to coalesce into something more tangible and firm. </p><p>“Uhh are you telling me you can take it off?” You asked with a semi-hysterical laugh. “For reals?”</p><p>“it’s my magic,” he explained, taking a step back. With a raised hand he coaxed that familiar orange glow in the palm of his hand a waved it around until a small sphere formed. “i can do whatever the hell i want with it.” His eyes widened at what his words were implying. “well. sorta. so, will that work for you?” </p><p>Stretch, often the cause of your problems was now the answer to your prayers. Alanis Morissette wrote a song about something like this. The sentiment. Not the skeleton fucking.</p><p>“Bitchin, how we do?” You asked with renewed excitement. </p><p>Watching Stretch coax and shape his magic from a ball into a familiar dick was neat. Usually, it just sprung into place and you never question any of the minutiae about its existence. He slid down on his knees and worked the length of it through the harness and began making adjustments to the back of it so it would stay put and be comfortable against your body. </p><p>Once your “unit” as he so eloquently called it, was in place he began working on creating his own. Your concern over him being uncomfortable making something else to fuck with was quickly brushed aside with the assurance that he’d done this plenty of times before, in all makes and models. His magic began forming and you expected Stretch to make a pussy but to your surprise, he made a tight ass for you to fuck as he got into position on his knees. </p><p>Curiously you reached around him and found his usual dick was summoned too, already hard and twitching in excitement. You couldn’t contain your laughter as a thought crossed your mind. “That my friend is a lot of dicks. Five in total.”  </p><p>“yeah it... wait, five? i only count four.”</p><p>“Then I’d look in the mirror if I was you.”</p><p>“har har. wait, on that note, what <i>are</i> we gonna do with floppy face over here?” He motioned to the discarded dildo in the bathtub. </p><p>“Leave it there I presume?”</p><p>“why don’t you use it? wouldn’t that feel awesome to be filled up while you’re filling <i>me</i> up?</p><p>“You are the smartest person in the room right now and it’s scaring me.”</p><p>“me too. now please,” stretch reached over and offered you the dildo in question, “stick this in so we can begin.” </p><p>He seemed eager, and not like someone trying to yank off the bandaid and get it over with kind of eager. You took his advice and pulled down the harness before seating the last dildo inside of you. It slid in easily with how wet you’d become and you were able to finally focus your attention on the task at hand.  </p><p>Wielding Stretch’s cock was mind-bending experience. The magic didn’t adhere perfectly to your body so the harness was still helpful, but it felt more real than its silicon alternative, both in texture and shape; it even pulsed in your hand and was warm to the touch.</p><p>You seated yourself against his ass and slowly began pushing in. His magic was tight but like its namesake, it relented none the less; this was a familiar game for Stretch after all. And now it was your time to shine and talk your dirty-sweet-nothings. “You look so pretty on your knees right now. It’s hard to believe we haven’t done this before.” In one slow motion, you pushed in the rest of the way and he whimpered in response. </p><p>At first, it was tricky trying to find the right angle and you slipped out a few times, but with a little bit of persistence and spit ‘n payer for good measure, you found your rhythm and Stretch was mewling appreciatively. Only the tip of the tub-cock was in his mouth so far; citing that he was going to suck your cock right and work his way up to taking it all. His words left your mind racing and you rolled your hips harder against his backside, trying to keep up your pace and keep the angle right lest you slip out again. If this was a double whammy in pleasure for Stretch you wanted to up the ante to a triple threat. Your hand snaked its way to his cock and began stroking in time with your rolling hips. Stretch's soft panting turned into full-blown moaning from all the stimulation. “I’m going to fuck you senseless,” you whispered against his skull. “By the time I’m done I want to hear you beg for release.”  </p><p>As time went on Stretch would adjust his stance and take more of the dildo in his mouth and a line of drool flowed steadily to the floor. Your usually quiet lover, known for sighing his way through orgasms like a bored soccer mom, was moaning like you were the patron saint of fucking. He even praised your performance, his word becoming garbled from the intrusion in his mouth. “oh, oh oh yesh. mmm ‘ur cock ish sho good.” </p><p>You knew it was a show, him laying it on thick for you and something inside your soul warmed at the thought of him trying hard to make you happy. Not only was he humoring you, but he was going the extra mile because this experience was something you deemed important while you tried to figure out exactly where you stood on the spectrum. Truthfully you felt more like the pendulum at times and maybe this really was a conversation you could have with him considering how well this was going. He hadn’t judged you once after all.</p><p>Stretch pulled the cock from his mouth and look at you over his shoulder. “please, fuck me harder, faster. i can take it i swear.” And who were you to refuse such a request? </p><p>“Stroke your pretty little cock for me Stretch.” He immediately obliged and you used both hands to grab his pelvis, increasing the speed of your thrusts. To your surprise and absolute delight the spot where your borrowed cock rubbed against your pubic mound began to react against your skin. It made your body tingle with each jolt that lined up perfectly with your thrusting and if you closed your eyes and let the sensation take over, it honestly felt like you had your own dick. </p><p>The sound of Stretch’s muffled coughs caught your attention and you saw his body begin to shudder from the depth that he was taking the tub-cock. Stretch had previously boasted that he had no gag reflex and you wondered if he conjured a magical throat for the sake of authenticity.</p><p>Your climax had been steadily building and you now felt mere moments away from its peak. “Stretch, you’re going to make me come”, you sighed quickening your pace. “I’m so close and know you’re close too. I can feel it. Come with me. Please.”</p><p>The hand that was previously working his dick at an alarming pace stopped, a tell that he reached the height of his orgasm as he choked and coughed around the dildo, body rocking from the lack of air and depth that he was sucking it. As your own climax hit you braced your hands on either side of the bathtub and waited for the intense pleasure to subside.</p><p>The sound of Stretch retching broke into a soft sob as he pulled away from the tub-cock which was now coated with his purged excess magic as it dripped on the floor. Whatever instant worry you felt over his discomfort vanished when he raised his hand to give you a shaky thumbs up while catching his breath. </p><p>“Are you ok?” you asked, wanting to hear him say it.</p><p>“no, i’m stretch.”</p><p>You kept your annoyance in check and opted for a topic change “Have you ever fucked yourself before? Like this?” </p><p>“nope. there aren’t too many firsts left for me. i’ve been around the block too much, but this was definitely one.” </p><p>Your loaned dick began to dissipate and you pulled out of him with what little solid form was left, causing him to hiss sharply between his teeth. </p><p>“The thing about firsts,” you said, trailing soft kisses up his spine, “is they’re better when they become seconds,” <i>kiss</i>, “and thirds,” <i>kiss</i> “and so on.” You moved to sit on the floor beside him, the coolness of the bathtub a welcome feeling against your hot back. “I don’t suppose you’d be up for doing this again? We can leave out this beast,” you motioned to the turgid wang standing between you. “I promise.”</p><p>He answered with his own question. “how did that make you feel?”</p><p>You hesitated. “Happy? Right?” </p><p>With a lot of groaning Stretch rose to his feet and looked down at you with one of his rare sincere smiles. The kind he held close to his heart and usually only shared with his brother Blue. “then we can do that until the end of time pumpkin.” In two strides he was out the bathroom door. </p><p>“Wait! Where are you going? We have to clean this mess up. Your bathtub looks like a creamsicle.”</p><p>He didn’t stop walking away. “eh, just throw a towel down. it’ll be fine.”</p><p>“Gross.”</p><p>“me or you?”</p><p>“You. OBVIOUSLY!”</p>
<hr/><p>For what it’s worth he did eventually return, and “helped” by wiping the same spot on the floor over and over with a towel under his foot while you sanitized the rest of the space. Later that night you put on the next installment in the Friday the 13th series and reversed positions on the chesterfield so Stretch was settled in between your legs. He manifested a dick to sit in your harness while you watched the movie so you could prod at his back and eat the cheezies that fell on his shirt.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I know the kinks stated are gonna be a hard pass for some but to those who got this far thank you so much for reading!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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